


Juxtaposition

by DeandraAlleyan



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Theodred lives AU, what if Theodred had lived?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 80,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeandraAlleyan/pseuds/DeandraAlleyan
Summary: Saruman's army failed to eliminate the heir to Rohan's throne. How did that alter Eomer's destiny?
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Lothíriel, Éowyn/Faramir (Son of Denethor II)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Juxtaposition: the act or an instance of placing two or more things side by side**

Chapter 1 (25 Feb, 3019 III)

"Harding! To me!" shouted Elfhelm, summoning his second in command and trusted friend to his counsel with Grimbold.

When Harding had joined them, Elfhelm instructed the man in hushed tones, "Ride swiftly, and carry Lord Theodred to the Hornburg. Instruct Erkenbrand to keep him hidden and safe. Let it be said that he died here and send such word on to Edoras."

Grimbold's eyes went wide. "What! You would lie to the king, and tell him that his son is dead?"

Elfhelm clapped a firm hand on the other man's shoulder. "These are dangerous times. From what you have told me, the attack on Theodred was no accident of war. We must do this to keep him safe, and Eomer as well. If Eomer learns of this, he is apt to do something rash. Already the Worm seeks to discredit him in Theoden's eyes. For the moment, let the enemy think he has succeeded in Theodred's death, and perhaps grow over-confident. When Theodred is well again, we will reveal him. I fear this is our only hope."

Grudgingly, Grimbold accepted this assessment with a nod. "Very well, but I do not like lying to the king."

"Nor do I," Elfhelm assured him, "but Grima has too much influence there. If we wish Grima to think Theodred is dead, then Theoden must also believe it. Do you realize what will happen if both Theodred and Eomer fall? Theoden will be the last ruler of the Mark who is of the house of Eorl, and he will be under the influence of Grima. Would you have the Worm as your king?"

Grimbold's jaw tightened as the full realization of the situation struck home. "Never!"

Elfhelm's eyes flicked back to Harding. "You will do this?"

The man gave a curt nod. "Yes, my lord. Is there more you wish me to tell Lord Erkenbrand?"

Further instructions were quickly given, and Theodred bundled onto the horse with Harding. A small escort accompanied as they rode swiftly toward the Deep. With the remainder of their men, Elfhelm and Grimbold saw to the fortifying of their position. Much as it grieved them to leave their kinsmen unburied, there was simply no time for it now. They had little doubt Saruman's forces would return – all too soon.

xxx

Entering the inner court of the Hornburg, Harding made straight for Erkenbrand, who stood waiting on the steps. They had kept Theodred's face hidden, so no one realized who Harding carried on his horse, but as Erkenbrand and his Steward took the unconscious man down from the saddle, Erkenbrand glimpsed the Prince's face. His head jerked up to stare questioningly at Harding, but the man gave a slight shake of his head to warn him to silence.

Quickly he dismounted and moved to help carry Theodred inside the citadel. Once they were away from curious ears, Erkenbrand directed, "Speak. My Steward can be trusted." Accepting this, Harding murmured, "I bring word from Elfhelm, my lord. We must keep him concealed. No one may know that he yet lives. Tell only a select few whom you trust to help you care for him. And we must send word to Edoras saying that Theodred died at the Fords."

This was so shocking that Erkenbrand came to a stunned halt. "Are you mad?" he hissed. "We cannot lie–"

Harding cut him off. "I know what you would say, my lord, but we must. Surely you know how Theoden's counselor has his ear. To keep Theodred safe – to keep the Mark safe – we must conceal him for now. Lord Elfhelm does not wish for the Worm to know they failed to dispatch Theoden's heir at Isen."

Erkenbrand scowled more deeply, struggling to comprehend all the implications of what he was being asked to do. Glancing down at the young Prince, however, one thing was certain. They must act quickly or Theodred's death would be no lie. Clearly he was grievously wounded. "Come. Let us get him tended. We will take him to a room in the family's chambers."

xx

"Retaleoth, come quickly. I need your help." Eanswith did not waste time with an explanation at this moment, trusting her daughter to do as instructed. Looking toward Tilleoth, who watched them from where she played on the floor, she added, "My sweet, go and play with Fylscinan while your Mama helps Grandmother."

The little girl obediently nodded and rose, hurriedly grabbing her doll before trotting out the door. As she moved off down the corridor, Retaleoth returned her attention to her mother, turning to follow as she led the way in the opposite direction. Surprisingly, she was making for a little used portion of their living area. The three rooms were rarely occupied, and were kept closed except when they had guests visiting.

The last door was their destination, and as Retaleoth stepped inside, her mother instructed, "Close the door, dear. We do not want to be seen."

At these words her brow knit in confusion, but Retaleoth allowed her mother to reveal only what she wished. Questions could come later. She glanced around, noticing a man on the bed. All other furniture was pushed well away to allow easy access to him, and she could guess he was injured even before she saw the bloodied clothing that he wore. This was familiar enough – she had assisted with many wounded men, not the least of which had been her husband.

Sympathetically, she glanced at his face, wondering who else might well be a widow before dawn, and her breath caught in her throat as she recognized him. Instantly she froze where she stood, until her mother spoke low and insistently, "Retaleoth! Quickly."

Abruptly she pulled herself back to the situation and stepped forward, her eyes flicking about and assessing what needed doing. "The healer is coming?" she asked, while helping her mother gently remove the ripped and bloodstained shirt.

"Your father is getting him now. Listen carefully, my dear – no one may know the Prince is here, and most of all they must not know he is alive –"

"What?" she interrupted with a gasp. "But why?"

"Your father did not have time to fully explain it to me as yet, but I am sure he will. I believe…I believe he does not think the effort to kill Theodred at the Isen was by chance. Only in secrecy may we keep him safe. And, hopefully, when it is safe to reveal the truth, he will be healed."

A quick knock at the door preceded Erkenbrand's return, along with the leech, Seftebeorn, who immediately went to examine Theodred. Unable to restrain herself, Retaleoth moved over to clutch at her Father's arm. "Papa, I do not understand. How could this happen? Why did Edoras not send him aid? Where is Eomer?"

Catching her shoulders to calm her, Erkenbrand gazed down at his daughter and answered quietly, "You know there is darkness overtaking us, dear girl. The evil even creeps at Edoras and blinds the king to our need. Eomer would have come if he could, if he knew. I can only assume he did not receive word, or he was hindered in some way. If not, then he is on his way, though he will be too late to prevent Theodred's fall."

He glanced over to the bed as Eanswith joined them. "What will you do?" his wife asked anxiously. With Theodred incapacitated, that meant Erkenbrand now stood as the leader of the forces in the Westfold.

"I do not know. I cannot leave the Deep undefended, and yet the Isen must be guarded as well. I am sure the attack on Theodred's forces was only the beginning. The wizard at Isengard is not finished. But so long as the Deep stands strong and ready for battle, we may hope to prevent any attempt at attacking Edoras." He fell silent, contemplating his thoughts and possible choices.

"My lord?" The leech's quiet voice drew their attention to the bed. "He is sorely wounded, but there is hope. I will do all that I can, but I will need assistance with his care. Who shall I entrust with this?"

"My wife and daughter will aid you. Whatever you need, they will see to it. Other than the three of us, few shall know the truth. And, now, I must go and spread the lie – that our Prince is dead." His face grayed at the thought, but he straightened with purpose. War was never easy, but he was seasoned in battle. He would do what was necessary to improve their chances for survival.

xxxxx

Erkenbrand delayed his own departure from Helm's Deep for three days, giving temporary field command to Grimbold. But as reports of Saruman's numbers reached him, he knew a great confrontation was coming and more men would be needed. Quickly he set out to gather what men of the Westfold he could to bolster their strength. Reluctantly he left defense of the Deep to his trusted captain Gamling, an old but seasoned warrior, until his return.

Over the course of the next few days, much happened. There were further battles along the course of the Isen and elsewhere in the land. The orc army broke the Rohirric lines at the Isen and their forces were scattered widely, trying to escape the onslaught in order to regroup and mount their own counter-attack. But disarray reigned and Rohan's straggling survivors tried to hold their own against the horde of invaders.

Within the Deeping-wall, all anyone could do was wait and watch. Sketchy reports trickled in, but gave them no clear idea of what was taking place elsewhere. Consequently, they could only assume a battle would come to them, and prepare for that eventuality. Added to the distress of not knowing their situation was their grief over Theodred's death. Sorrowful faces were everywhere, and even the children, who did not fully understand what was happening, rarely smiled. Silent tears would occasionally trickle down a woman's cheeks as she went about her tasks of the day. They mourned their beloved Prince, a familiar face in their midst, as well as their failing king. While most did not know the full details, there had long been rumors about circumstances at Edoras, and fear had become a way of life.

Only Erkenbrand's family and most trusted people knew of the deception and saw to Theodred's care. But in public view, they mourned his loss along with the rest of the people. Their long faces were not entirely false, for Theodred's injuries were serious, but he lived and that gave some hope.

Unbeknownst to the Westfold, their King, healed by Gandalf, had been riding to war with Isengard when they met Ceorl on the road, coming to inform them of the routing at the fords and requesting urgent aid. But Gandalf perceived the greater need was to guard the Deep and sent Theoden there, along with Eomer's forces and his three companions, while the wizard rode off on other unnamed business.

So much had been happening, and so very quickly, that Theoden's household had not had time to dwell upon their sorrow over Theodred's death. The urgency of imminent war gave them no respite, and soon after Theoden was returned to himself, they were mounted and riding to battle. Certainly they had given up their dearest blood in this conflict with Saruman, and there was yet no end in sight. If things went ill, they might well soon join Theodred in the Halls of Waiting.

Their unexpected arrival at the Deep was loudly cheered, particularly the sight of Theoden sitting tall and strong at the head of the company. Erkenbrand had not returned, so Eomer stood in his stead in marshaling the forces at the fortress, preparing for battle. Too many who had taken refuge there were not soldiers, and were either very young or past their prime, though they had little choice but to make do with everyone capable of bearing arms. The armory was completely cleared of weapons and armor as they outfitted all as best they could. Then it was Eomer's task to determine the wisest use of the forces at their disposal. If placed correctly, perhaps they could compensate for their weaknesses and deficiencies.

From the moment they had set foot inside the fortress, there had been much rushing about, hurrying to get everything in readiness before an onslaught could come. They had been met, oddly enough, not by Erkenbrand's wife and lady of the fortress, but rather by his chief captain. The man apprised them of Erkenbrand's absence and their current situation, so rather than pursuing any amenities, they had instantly set to work.

In the midst of his efforts, however, Erkenbrand's wife tentatively approached Eomer. "My lord, may we speak for a moment?" she asked.

"Now is not a good time," he answered absentmindedly, directing more men where to take up position. "Put those lads up on the wall with rocks," he called to Eothain. "And set archers over there."

She clasped his arm. "Eomer, it is important. Please."

Eomer looked at Eanswith, his attention caught. He knew her to be an intelligent and rational woman; she would not distract him unnecessarily at a time such as this. Though he had not spent a great deal of time at the Hornburg, he had always been impressed with this sensible, dependable woman, and Theodred had ever spoken well of her. With a nod, he gave consent and she gestured to her right. "Come with me. There is something you must see. I feel sure you will know what is best to do."

His curiosity piqued, Eomer followed impatiently behind her, and after several moments, he realized she was guiding him to the family's private quarters. Stepping to a door, she gave a quick sharp double knock upon it. A moment later, Eanswith's eldest daughter, Retaleoth, peeped out and then opened the door just enough for them to slip inside. The room was largely in darkness, save for the fire and a few candles. Eomer had rarely been in the family's quarters on his few visits, but this room seemed rather sparsely afforded to belong to someone of the household.

A man lay on the bed, and another sat in a chair next to him, but Eomer did not initially take much note of them, his mind still on war preparations. Not until Eanswith moved over to gaze upon the prone man did he look more closely, and his breath choked in his throat. "What…how? I do not understand!"

"He lives, my lord. Today is the first day he has awakened at all, for he was gravely wounded. It was only for a moment and he was not lucid. Lord Elfhelm thought it best to conceal him as he believes the attack was intended solely for the purpose of dispatching the prince. He thought it was safer if it not be known that Theodred had survived."

Eomer rushed forward, but then hesitated before seating himself carefully on the side of the bed and reaching for his cousin's arm. He was no healer, but certainly there was a steady pulse beating in Theodred's wrist, and his complexion was not that of a dead man. Eomer's eyes flicked to the man seated across the bed from him. "You are the leech?" he asked.

"Yes, I am Seftebeorn, my lord," he answered.

"Speak," Eomer instructed.

"His injuries were grievous, but he is responding well to the medicine. It may yet take time, but I believe he will fully recover."

Tentatively, Eanswith laid a hand on Eomer's shoulder. "If Erkenbrand were here, I would have left it to him to make this known, but as he is away I was not sure what to do. But I thought you should know, and perhaps you will think it is time to reveal him to the king also. We did not like the pain this caused you or the king, but Elfhelm thought it necessary."

After a moment's thought, Eomer stood abruptly. "Elfhelm was wise to do so, but now much has changed. I must tell the king that his son yet lives. He does not need to bear that sorrow into the coming battle."

Hurrying along passages, Eomer's mind reeled with this development – Theodred, alive! It little mattered how it was possible, only that it was true. Now Theoden, Theodred or he needed to survive the coming battle so at least one of them was left to rule the Mark – if there was still anything or anyone to be ruled. _Alive!_ He let out a whoop of delight, unable to contain it, earning him a few curious looks from passing servants.

Theoden was talking with Gamling and some others when Eomer found him. Much as he was inclined to burst forth with this news, he thought it best to reveal it to Theoden privately first. Stepping up to the group, he bowed and said, "My lord, may we speak alone? I have a matter of great urgency I must share with you."

His uncle's eyes fell upon him, tinged with both sorrow and remorse. He had lost his son in battle, or so he believed, and through his own weakness he had separated himself from his devoted sister-son. On the ride from Edoras, Theoden had murmured something of an apology, though the busy company surrounding them did not permit conversation solely between the two of them. Both men had felt uncomfortable and embarrassed having such a discussion, but it was sufficient to clear the air. Eomer knew his uncle regretted what had happened, and Theoden was reassured that Eomer loved him no less for the difficulties of the past.

When they had separated themselves from the others, Eomer said quietly, "Uncle, I have just received some joyous news – Theodred is not dead! He lives, and he is here, though still unconscious and gravely injured."

Theoden's eyes went wide, not quite grasping what he was being told. Could it be possible? Yes, it must be, for Eomer would never lie about such a thing. How it was so, he could find out later, but for now he must see his son. "Take me to him – at once!" the king demanded, and Eomer instantly turned on his heel to lead the way.

The king's appearance in Theodred's room brought all present to their feet. They looked uncertainly at one another, unsure what they should do. Deciding it was her place to inquire, Eanswith stepped forward. "My lord, your son awakened briefly earlier today, but not since. Still, he improves steadily and our healer believes he will recover fully." She paused then asked, "Shall we leave you alone with him, sire?"

For a moment, it almost appeared that Theoden had not been listening to her, but then he smiled and grasped her hands in gratitude. "No, stay. If he cannot speak, then perhaps you will tell me what you know, but quickly – war is upon us and I cannot linger long."

With a nod, Eanswith explained all that had taken place over the past few days, while the king seated himself by the bed and took his son's hand in his own. As she finished, he murmured, "I thought I should never see him again. I only wish there was more time, for there is so much I wish to tell him." His voice broke and he swallowed hard. Then, looking up at the two women and the healer, he said, "You have my deepest thanks for your efforts in Theodred's behalf. I beg you to continue your ministrations and see him recovered." Rising, he growled additionally, "And I shall do my very best to keep you safe while you are doing so! Come, Eomer. There is a battle to be won!"

With a last look at his son, Theoden hurried from the room with Eomer on his heels. There was new purpose in their stride, and Eanswith's mouth tweaked with pleasure to see it. But then her eyes darkened again – if only Erkenbrand were here…

xxx (6 Mar, 3019 III)

"Open the gates! The King returns!" a sentry shouted.

The small party of Gandalf, Theoden, Eomer and the others who accompanied them made their way up the causeway and into the courtyard. All looked grim and weary as they dismounted. Saruman had been less than forthcoming with information that would be sorely needed to aid in their battle against Sauron.

Erkenbrand hurried forward to greet them. Eanswith had been overcome with relief when he returned safely. In that, she was more fortunate than the many whose husbands had fallen in the great battle. Were it not for the arrival of Gandalf and Erkenbrand's forces, victory might not have been theirs. The war was not over, but while the Eorlingas drew breath there was still a chance. For the moment, though, the Lord of the Deeping-coomb had other matters forefront in his thoughts. "My lord! Theodred is awake! Will you see him?"

Though Theoden knew his son lived, and rejoiced at the news, Theodred had not awakened during his visits, either before or after the battle of the Deep. "Of course!" the King exclaimed, hastening toward the room where Theodred lay, Eomer and Erkenbrand with him. More slowly, Aragorn followed, not wanting to intrude, but thinking perhaps he might be of some assistance. There had been no opportunity prior to this for him to offer his help, but ere he parted for Dunharrow he must do what he could.

The reunion between father and son was joyful, though Theodred was quite weak and not very alert. He seemed cognizant that it was his father with him, but was a little disbelieving considering his last memories of Theoden's condition.

Theoden was content to merely be with his son, murmuring his name over and over – "Theodred, my Theodred!" Perhaps the young man looked blearily at him, without full recognition, but he was alive and recovering. That was all that mattered. Even Eomer kept silent, but stood beaming at his cousin from the foot of the bed.

When at length Theodred began to doze off once more, Aragorn stepped forward to share what skill he possessed in Elvish healing techniques, and he was gladly welcomed to attend Theodred.

As they moved down the corridor away from Theodred's room, Theoden queried Eomer softly, "Does the sun set on one son of the Mark as it rises on another, Eomer? Tomorrow we depart to gather what forces we can and ride for Gondor. Who knows but what it shall be our last ride. Theodred would then be king. I have no doubt he will make a fine ruler, but I would wish to have many more years on this green earth in which to enjoy his company."

Eomer nodded, but encouraged, "We do not know our fate, lord. It could be that when the dust finally settles in the east, we will still stand and may one day return to live peacefully in the Riddermark. With allies such as Aragorn and Gandalf, our prospects are far brighter than they were only a week ago."

"Aye, perhaps you are right," Theoden answered, though his voice remained uncommitted to that belief. Whatever anyone said, he could not help thinking this might well be the last battle he would ever see.

xxxxx

On the morrow, Aragorn and those riding with the Grey Company, who had met them on the road returning from Isengard, hastened on to Dunharrow, to take the Paths of the Dead into Gondor. Legolas and Gimli would not be parted from him, so they too accompanied Aragorn.

It had been difficult for Theoden to gaze on his sleeping son that final time. Everyone had cleared the room to allow them a few moments alone. When he emerged, he glanced at Eanswith and her daughter waiting nearby, and huskily enjoined them, "Watch over him for me. And thank you for all you have done. I am ever in your debt." Turning quickly, he hastened away before emotion overtook him.

Soon, Theoden and Eomer also departed, gathering Riders for the muster, and arriving at Dunharrow three days later. Time was running out, made all the more plain when the messenger from Gondor came, bringing the Red Arrow and requesting aid of Rohan. Theoden's heart was torn; he was glad that his son lived and could take his place if necessary, but it sorrowed him that they might never see one another again in this life. As he looked at his nephew, though, it heartened him to know that Eomer was ever steadfast, and would stand at Theodred's right hand in all things. A king needed someone so dependable and true.

xxx (22 Mar, 3019 III)

"I am well enough, I tell you!" Theodred snapped with irritation. "Lord Aragorn's efforts have greatly aided my healing. True, I am not at full strength and able to ride to battle, but I must go and offer what help I can now that my Father has fallen."

His final remark silenced the healer for a moment. Then, with a sigh, Seftebeorn said, "Very well, my lord, but do take a sufficient guard with you. As you say, you are not up to battle as yet. We should not wish to lose you when victory is so near, especially now that our beloved Theoden is taken from us."

Theodred paused in lacing his shirt, then turned to look at the man with more compassion. "I understand your concerns, and I will be cautious. But if they have truly ridden on the Black Gates, I may yet be needed there. And if they fail, with my dying breath I will try to keep that evil from spreading over the Mark. Victory may be near, but it is not won yet, nor will it come easily." Resignedly the man nodded, and turned to prepare a medicine kit for the prince to take with him, all the while instructing him in how to properly tend his wounds.

From her chair, Retaleoth watched the exchange in silence. She had already spent all her arguments in trying to persuade Theodred to reconsider this course. News from the battlefield of Theoden's fall had been a blow to them all, but especially to the king's heir. Even as the people around him spoke of his father's vitality while at the Deep, he was being advised of Theoden's demise. It did little to assuage his pain to know that they had been reunited while he was barely conscious. He wanted more – he wanted time with the loving father that he remembered from years past. It rankled him that Saruman had stolen all that time from them.

"You promise you will be careful?" Retaleoth asked softly as Seftebeorn left them. "You are not so healed as you claim, and I think you will find this journey far more difficult than you imagine. If it comes to a fight, you will be easy prey."

Theodred's jaw tightened as he looked up from watching a servant pull his boots on for him. "Retaleoth, try to understand. I must do this. I cannot be idle here while all of Middle-earth battles for survival. I may not be able to fight, but I can lead and rally and rule as needed. I would feel dishonorable to remain safely at this fortress while my kinsmen risk all, even their very lives, to keep the Mark safe." The servant rose, and at a signal from Theodred, followed the healer from the room.

"I know," she murmured, giving an understanding smile. Like all Eorlingas, he was a proud man, and none could countenance letting others fight their battles. Even their kings led from the front, rather than the safety of the rear. "Come back to us. We should not wish to lose two kings in rapid succession," she told him with husky voice, her emotions bleeding through.

Rising stiffly he came over and stood before her, but she would not meet his eyes. Slowly he reached out a hand to stroke her hair. "I will return – I promise. Depend on it," he quietly assured her. "Come, walk me to my horse, and no tears." She nodded faintly, and drew a ragged breath before standing to accompany him out.

Despite the early hour, many people had gathered to cheer a farewell at their new King. It had not been difficult for Theodred to find an escort. Though he only chose a dozen, many more had volunteered when he asked for a group to ride with him to Gondor. Most of the men left guarding the Deep were past their prime, but warriors all. They did not like the necessity of hiding behind stone walls to do their fighting, rather than riding out to meet the enemy. Though hopefully there would be no danger on the road, in their heart of hearts each wished for one last chance to dispatch a few orcs in open combat.

xxxxx

In spite of his claims of recovery, Theodred found he was weaker than expected and could not ride for so long as he was used to doing. While his armor had protected him from irreparable harm, he had lost a great deal of blood from where the orcs had managed to cut him with their axe blades. But he had been fortunate to not suffer from any serious infection of the wounds that would have hindered his recovery. Slower to heal, though, were his ribs. The leech was not certain whether they were broken or merely bruised, but either way they were very uncomfortable. Theodred needed help getting on and off his horse, so as to avoid pulling on them and causing him severe pain. His horse's motion was smooth enough that the actual riding didn't hurt so much, but at day's end his entire body seemed to stiffen, and the poppy extract the leech gave him was needed for him to get any sleep. During the day, he could usually keep any discomfort at bay with spirits.

Their second night on the road they stayed over at Edoras so that Theodred could know the situation there, and make sure all was secure. Erkenbrand had been gone from the Deep when Theodred left, and he was grateful not to meet the man at Edoras either and have to suffer further arguments against his journey. Theoden had charged Erkenbrand with keeping the Mark secure during his absence, and he had been out checking on their strongholds to see how they fared. There was still the possibility their paths would cross between Edoras and Aldburg, but after that Theodred felt reasonably sure he would be safe from such an encounter. Part of him did understand the concern all felt for his safety and well-being, and he was even humbled as he knew the concern was personal as well as related to his kingship, but it did nothing to change his view on what was necessary for him to do.

The king's party stopped again at Aldburg the next night, realizing it would be the last real bed they would get for the remainder of the journey. His arrival at the smaller city had also been cheered, somewhat to his surprise, but he learned that Erkenbrand had been there just the day before and spread the excellent news that he lived. Betersel, Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg, fussed over the King as though he were one of her children, and he rather enjoyed her attention. Eomer sometimes complained about her behavior, but Theodred was never fooled – his cousin liked being so cared for regardless of what he said on the matter.

Better even than this motherly cossetting was the sudden appearance of great eagles flying over them, just as they arrived at Aldburg. All about them, heads were craning up in wonder, and then utter astonishment as the magnificent birds spoke. They sang of victory, proclaiming the fall of the Black Tower and Sauron's defeat. Middle-earth had survived with the race of Men still present.

There was much celebration that night, and it pleased Theodred to witness it. There had been little cause for rejoicing in quite some time. If only his father could have been here to share in this…

Whether she sensed the melancholy mood coming upon him, or merely decided he needed his rest, Betersel hustled him off to bed early. Regardless of his protests, even the sounds of the festivities did not prevent his falling immediately to sleep the instant he climbed into bed, despite his sore body and the continuing pain in his side.

Initially, Theodred had felt pressed to hurry to reach Gondor, but with news of the victory, he relaxed somewhat. They still travelled a good clip, but now he paid more attention to the villages they passed along the way. The orcs and Dunlendings had destroyed many of the homes in the Westfold, and Eomer had indicated the last time they spoke at Edoras that it was the same in the Eastfold. To the extent he dared, Eomer had drawn the people closer to Edoras to keep them safer since he was so hampered in providing them with adequate protection. Even though it was more lightly settled than the Westfold, the plains were far more bleak and barren than when last Theodred had passed this way.

The villages that remained were ramshackle at best, and already he was mentally considering what would need to be done to see the inhabitants through the next winter. Supplies would surely be scarce.

Beside him, Wermund spoke and brought him from his musings. "I do not think many of them realize you had been believed dead, as they do not seem surprised that you live. Or perhaps they merely do not recognize you! The king's son has not often ventured this far east!"

He grinned teasingly, and Theodred laughed. "True! I sent Eomer instead, and likely they all believe he is the King's heir. They will be shocked when I step to the throne!"

"Shocked, perhaps, but not displeased, my lord. And Eomer will be your strongest supporter. He would never presume to –" Wermund had long lived in the Folde, and knew Theodred's cousin quite well. None that had fought alongside Eomer ever allowed anyone to speak ill of him.

"Do not defend Eomer to me, Wermund. I have never questioned his loyalty, and I do not intend to start now. Father may have been the one to name him Third Marshal, before the dark times came upon us, but I am the one who profited from that. When the Worm was plying his treachery, it was a relief to know that I had Eomer here. I could not be two places at once or fight every battle."

"True," Wermund murmured. Then, with another grin, he burst into song. The effort of singing was too uncomfortable on his ribs, so Theodred did not participate, but it lifted his spirit to hear it.

Their entire journey took more than a week. Though a few orcs were spotted, they were in small groups and avoided the Riders, not appearing desirous of a fight. Theodred could only think that was due to the fall of Saruman, and their defeat on the Pelennor. The Riders had ridden in almost a grim silence for the early days of their travel, but news of victory had so lightened their hearts that when Wermund burst into song not long after they departed Aldburg's gates, he was quickly joined by everyone else, and they had continued to sing for much of the remainder of their trip. Something of a minstrel, Wermund entertained them with impromptu songs that he newly formed. Theodred was rather relieved that he chose to focus on light topics such as romance and humor, rather than taking his fodder from the recent battles. There was time enough for that later. They all needed to think on the goodness of life just now.

Their last night, they camped a couple of leagues from the Rammas Echor. Part of him dreaded seeing the battlefield, so Theodred took that final evening to mentally prepare himself for both that and the devastation of lives he knew he would face once he entered the city. There would be rejoicing, of course, over their victory, but that success had come with a terrible toll in human lives. He didn't know the precise number that had ridden to Gondor's aid under his father's command, but he was very sure that many would not be returning home under Theodred's.

There were also the mixed feelings he had about the survivors. Even as a military leader, he had found it difficult to enter houses where the maimed and wounded were tended. The sights and smells seemed to claw at his insides, tightening them so he could barely breathe – reminding him that he had helped bring them to this end. He had led them into battle; he had commanded them on the field of conflict. He could not think himself guiltless in their fall, or in their loss. He had felt that way when merely the son of the Mark's ruler; he was sure it would be even worse now that he himself was the King. He knew they did not hold him accountable, and would even cheer his part in leading them to a victory, but he could not wholly put aside the feeling that he should have protected them somehow, and ensured that they returned safely to their homes and families. And if that weren't enough, he simply had never gotten used to watching a friend, or soldier under his command, die an unpleasant death. It was a relief to take the poppy syrup that night and drift into dreamless sleep, temporarily relinquishing his own pain, both mental and physical.

Wermund, who had become the unofficial leader of their camp, allowed him to sleep longer than usual since they would arrive at Mundburg just before mid-day. After a leisurely breakfast they broke camp for the last time, and at length, they drew near to the outer wall of Minas Tirith. Or what was left of it. A good portion of the wall had been destroyed, but there were guards along the ruins of it, most of which they recognized as their own kinsmen. A figure rode toward them, in the livery of the Mark, and after a few moments Theodred identified Elfhelm.

His fist resting on his hip, Elfhelm raised an eyebrow at Theodred. "Did I save your neck only to have you foolishly risk it riding to Gondor, Princeling?"

Theodred chuckled. The older man had been like a second father to him, or at least a mentor once he started training for war and with weapons. "Do not be such a mother hen, old man! I am well enough." He paused, then added quietly, "I thought I might be needed here. I am sure Eomer is managing well in my stead, but with Father's death our people need to see their king."

Elfhelm reluctantly nodded his agreement. "I notice you waited for all the dirty work to be ended, though! All that is left now is celebrating – no doubt with lovely ladies and much ale! You do have an excellent sense of timing!"

Theodred snickered, grateful for a lighter topic of discussion. "Part of the training to be king! Now, come, enough foolishness. Tell me of the situation here as we continue on our way, or must you remain here?"

The Marshal indicated he could accompany his king, and fell in beside him as they turned for the White City. It took most of the ride to relate tales of the battle: how Theoden had fallen, how Eowyn had played her part and how the day had been won by the unexpected arrival of Aragorn with reinforcements. Then Elfhelm prepared Theodred for what he would find in the City.

When he finished reporting, the king shook his head. "Little Eowyn, a woman of valor! Not that I am surprised by her courage or prowess, but still!" He sighed. "Eomer and I worried about her, being trapped at Meduseld with Grima haunting her steps, but there was nothing we could do about it while Father trusted the Snake's every word. I am glad she is free of that now. She deserves some happiness."

"Yes," Elfhelm acknowledged before lapsing into silence. As they approached the Eorlingas' encampment, Elfhelm indicated where Theodred's escort could set up camp, save for the two that would accompany him into the City. "Prince Imrahil has given us the use of his house, but you should visit the Steward and make yourself known to him. He was residing in the Houses of Healing, wounded in an earlier battle, but has now taken up his office. Eowyn is still in the Houses."

Once they had stabled their horses and left their belongings at Imrahil's townhouse, Elfhelm led the way to the Houses. Despite Theodred's dislike of such places, at least this one was a vast improvement over the often crude areas used for tending the wounded in the Mark. Even so, they still smelled of medicine – and fear, and despair. But this was necessary. His men would need to see him, receive encouragement from him; regardless of how difficult he found it, it was infinitely worse for them.

Clearly Elfhelm was well familiar with the place for he asked no directions, making directly for the room he sought. When Eowyn was not in her room, he commented, "Likely she is in the garden. She has spent much time there."

Again, he turned and strode off with perfect ease, and Theodred moved quickly beside him, hoping there would soon be an opportunity to sit down – his strength was waning. At the door to the gardens, he heard Elfhelm murmur, "Ah! There she is."

Looking through the glassed doors, Theodred saw his cousin standing gazing toward the east, as still as a statue. As they stepped into the garden and Elfhelm called her name, she turned, her expression greatly troubled. Theodred had not been expecting that, thinking she was healed now in body and spirit. Apparently there were still things amiss in her life. However, at the sight of him, her eyes widened and she beamed with joy, running to fling herself into his arms. He only just managed to keep her from bumping his aching ribs. "Theodred! It is true! Eomer told me you lived, but I scarce could believe it!"

Careful of her bandaged shieldarm and his own sore body, he hugged her gingerly. "Believe it – thanks to Elfhelm. And I am relieved to find you in one piece. I hope Eomer gave you a good talking to for doing such a foolhardy thing as sneaking off to war!"

Despite his words, his expression clearly told her he was teasing, but she earnestly tried to explain, "I had to come. I could not sit behind and tend to women and children, waiting to see if our world ended. I had to do my part!"

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I know. I am just glad I found out about it after it was too late, or I would have been frantic with worry over you." He leaned back and gazed more deeply into her eyes. "And, yet, you are not fully healed, I see."

She lowered her gaze. It had always annoyed her how easily he seemed to read her thoughts. Pulling from his embrace, she shrugged. "Wounds take time to mend."

Theodred could not help wondering which particular wounds she meant, but he refrained from asking just then. Looking around, he spotted a bench and nudged her toward it. "I must sit. My wounds are also still healing, and I yet tire easily."

Elfhelm gave a short bow. "I will leave you two to talk while I go and speak with some of my men."

Unexpectedly, Elfhelm's departure left them feeling awkward with one another, and unsure of what to say. So much had happened since last they had seen each other that conversation did not come readily. Before they could get past the awkwardness and speak, however, a man appeared nearby. Instantly, Eowyn rose as Theodred turned to eye him questioningly. He did not look like a leech…

"Lord Faramir – I would have you meet my cousin, Pr…Theodred King. He has just arrived." For a moment, Eowyn had almost called him a prince, then hastily realized his changed status. Her jaw tightened at the remembrance of how it came about. Then, uncertain how much Theodred knew of Gondor's leaders, she forced herself to add, "Lord Faramir is now Steward of Gondor."

"I am honored to meet you, my lord," Faramir said with a bow. "Welcome to Minas Tirith."

Slowly Theodred stood, already stiffening now that he had stopped moving. "The honor is mine, sir. I…I heard about your father and brother. I am sorry."

"As am I for your loss," Faramir answered evenly, suppressing any visible emotion.

For a few moments, they all stood awkwardly, until Eowyn asked, "Will you join us?"

Faramir hesitated, then replied, "As your cousin is just come, I am sure you will wish to talk privately. I will come back later." With another bow, he excused himself, and Theodred idly watched him walking away. The Steward had not seemed to know he was here, so he had not come out to greet him. Why then had he approached them? Theodred wondered.

As they reseated themselves, he noticed Eowyn's eyes flicking in the direction the Steward had gone, even as they talked. Looking more closely at her, he perceived a slight flush to her cheeks that he could not explain. _I will come back later._ Had Lord Faramir come to visit with Eowyn, and simply happened upon them together? An interesting possibility… He wondered what Eomer would make of it!

If his guesses were correct, Eowyn said nothing to confirm it. She carefully steered the conversation to how he was faring, and adding her own view of what had been happening in Gondor since their arrival.

"When will they return?" he asked.

"We have not yet received many details, but I understand they are gathered in Ithilien, tending to the wounded and celebrating. I think it may be a while before they make the trek back," Eowyn answered.

He nodded, then glanced to where Faramir had gone. "I think it might be best for me to remain here and see what I can do to be of assistance, rather than travel there. I do not truly have part in their victory anyway."

"Not so!" Eowyn exclaimed, catching his arm. "Just because you could not come here to fight does not mean the victory is not yours as well. You fought valiantly for many years leading up to this moment. To tarry in the Mark because you did not wish to fight would indeed be dishonorable, but that is not what happened. There is no dishonor that you were wounded at Isen and unable to come. Indeed, that you survived is a victory in itself!"

He smiled at her fervor – ever his and Eomer's champion, this one! Eomer… "What do you hear of Eomer? Is he well?"

"Only that he survived. Messages are slowly trickling in with details, mainly letting us know who is alive so as to relieve worried family members. They are camped at a place called Cormallen, and…and some from the City are going out to join them. But I am sure we will learn much more as time passes, and F…Lord Faramir will be sure to notify us of any news."

His eyes twinkled with amusement at her barely stifled familiarity with the Steward, but he looked away so she wouldn't see. It was evident she had feelings for the man, though whether they were requited he could only guess. Let her tell him of the situation when she was ready. And, perhaps, she had not yet acknowledged her feelings to herself. She had always been stubborn!

They talked a while longer, before Theodred let out a groan as he stood. "I need to lie down. Hopefully my guard can find our way back to Prince Imrahil's house." He glanced at his cousin. "How much longer will you be staying in the Houses of Healing?"

"They say it should require another month to completely heal my arm, but I am sure I can leave before then. They do not take into account how hardy we Eorlingas are!" she laughed.

He chuckled; knowing Eowyn, they would be hard pressed to keep her here another two weeks! She linked arms with him and walked him to the exit, leaving him with a kiss to his cheek. "I am glad you have come, Theodred. I only wish…" She didn't finish the sentence, but he took her meaning. He also wished his father was here. Helm's Deep was only a dim memory while his father had been there, and Theodred had not been up to conversation. He would like to have seen his father healed of Wormtongue's leechcraft and once again his own man. But it was something to know that it had happened, and that Theoden had died with honor. He was sure Eomer would tell him more of it when they saw one another.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> 
> 
> Footnote: For those of you only familiar with the movies and not the books, Eomer never went to the Fords of Isen, found Theodred alive or took him back to Edoras where he died. Instead, Theodred died and was buried at the Fords. Eomer visited the site much later, with Theoden and Gandalf when they went to Isengard after the battle at Helm's Deep. They returned to Helm's Deep and then went on to the muster at Dunharrow. It was Elfhelm who rode to Theodred's aid and, after both battles at the Fords, Elfhelm took his surviving Riders back to guard Edoras about the time Gandalf was gathering Erkenbrand and Grimbold's scattered forces to help at Helm's Deep. Eventually, though, Elfhelm was involved in the muster and rode to Minas Tirith with Theoden. (see The Unfinished Tales for most of the available details on the battles fought at the Fords of Isen, etc.)
> 
> Additionally, in the books Eomer was imprisoned, not banished, and he fought alongside Aragorn at Helm's Deep. It was Erkenbrand who arrived with Gandalf to help defeat the enemy.
> 
> Harding is an actual character in Tolkien's work, mentioned only in a song commemorating those who fell at the Battle of the Pelennor. Rather than create a new character for my purposes here, I simply gave one of those unknown men a backstory.
> 
> When Theodred first meets Eowyn at Minas Tirith, she and Faramir have not yet had their talk in which she realizes she loves him and agrees to marry him, thus the reason she still looks troubled when Theodred initially sees her in the garden. (I couldn't find that Tolkien ever specified what precise date some of the events took place, so I approximated dates for my purposes – Eowyn got the letter from Eomer on March 30, Theodred arrives the morning of April 2 and Faramir proposes that same afternoon.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You may be wondering - is this Theodred from the books or from the movie? As a visual reference, the movie-Theodred is fine, but he is in fact 41 in Tolkien and this story, despite being younger on film._

Chapter 2 (begins 3 April, 3019 III)

The wind had definitely changed by the time Theodred returned to see Eowyn the next day. He was quite weary after the long journey, and having a fine, soft bed to sleep in enticed him to lie down just after a late dinner. His healing body kept him sleeping through the evening and then the entire night. Elfhelm had kept Imrahil’s very able servants from disturbing him, for which he was grateful. They had been most gracious and accommodating in their master’s absence, but he needed the sleep far more than their hospitality. The long rest served him well and he felt much refreshed. Despite the moderate pace they had set on their journey, he had still found it taxing. A late breakfast – or early dinner, depending on how one viewed it – was followed by the walk to the Houses.

As they drew near, two women hurried past them in the other direction, excitedly chattering. “And he kissed her as they stood on the wall, in full view of the whole town! Can you imagine? How romantic!” The two giggled, and he eyed them idly as they rushed on their way. For a moment, he almost got the impression that Elfhelm was watching him carefully, but the older man turned away to precede him up the steps and open the door for him, so he dismissed it as concern for his health.

Once inside, they went first to visit with the Eorlingas who were yet in the care of healers. Theodred had to steel himself for it, but he was much humbled with the enthusiastic response when they spotted him. A few had heard of his supposed death but not that it had been a false report, and they were both surprised and pleased to learn that he lived. Others who hadn’t heard about any of it were merely pleased to see their king, though it was tempered by their own worries and concerns of the moment. 

Well wishers called out to him from every direction, along with condolences on the death of his father. For a moment, he came to a halt and fought to control his emotions. But then Elfhelm caught his elbow and gestured to the right, seeming to sense his rush of feeling and giving his arm a squeeze of understanding. “This way, my lord,” he said quietly, his calm voice steadying Theodred and enabling him to press on. 

Some of the men were from the Westfold, and Theodred recognized them even if he did not remember all of their names. Freobyrne and Athelhad he had often spoken to when dining among the men at the Deep. Now both gazed fretfully at him, their usual easy discourse with him silenced by their distress.

Most of the Eastfolders he did not know personally, but they accepted him without question as their new king. Once the formal pleasantries died down, the despair and fear rose again in most eyes, and they could not resist expressing their worry about how useful they might now be – or not be – with lost or mangled limbs, blinded eyes or disfigured bodies. Theodred listened attentively to them as they expressed their concerns, assuring each that the Mark had need of all its people, and that a place would be found for every man who had ridden to Rohan’s defense and sacrificed so much on her behalf.

Theodred visited with the men for over an hour, until Elfhelm said formally to him, “Lady Eowyn will be expecting you, Sire.” It gave him an excuse to withdraw, though he promised to return. As he rose, it was some consolation to see more hopeful looks on many faces than there had been earlier. However unpleasant he had found this, if it had eased their minds somewhat then it had been well worth the effort.

“Thank you,” he murmured to his friend as they stepped into the hall. “That was difficult for me.”

Elfhelm nodded, but made no comment, now steering him along the hall to Eowyn’s room. At the door, Elfhelm hesitated, almost as though he meant to say something, but then changed his mind and merely knocked. Immediately, the door was snatched open by Eowyn, her eyes alight and her face flushed. For an instant, her expression fell, but then she beamed once more and flung herself into Theodred’s arms for the second time, forgetting both of their injuries in her eagerness.

Chuckling, he observed, “Well, is this the little cousin I left looking so somber yesterday? What has you in such high spirits, Eowyn?”

“He loves me!” Eowyn exclaimed. “As I love him. Is that not reason enough for high spirits?”

Theodred smirked slightly, then cleared his features and asked, “And who exactly might we be talking about? I was not aware that Eomer had given anyone leave to court his sister.” He raised a stern eyebrow for good measure.

For only an instant, she faltered. “Oh…do you think he will mind? I mean, it was not expected, and he is not here and everything just happened. But Faramir will talk to him as soon as may be possible, I am sure!” Her words were tripping over themselves, but at least she had mentioned a name and confirmed his suspicions. Suddenly it occurred to him who it was the women he passed in the street had been discussing.

“When did all this come about? Certainly not before I saw you only a day ago,” he replied, catching her shoulders and holding her in place. His touch seemed to calm her somewhat.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled. “Yesterday afternoon. We became acquainted as we were here healing, and worrying about what was to come. As Aragorn and the healers mended my broken body, he mended my broken spirit. He is an excellent man, Theodred. You must help me make Eomer see that!”

He laughed. “I should convince Eomer of something I do not yet know myself, except on your say so?”

Eowyn snickered with him and shrugged. “No, I suppose not. But you are here and you may come to know him in Eomer’s stead, until he arrives. Then you will be able to speak of your own accord.”

“Oh, look, the paragon himself comes now,” murmured Elfhelm from where he stood in the doorway witnessing their exchange.

“You two had better behave!” Eowyn hissed, reflexively smoothing her hair.

“You look lovely, cousin, as always! Do not fret!” Theodred said with a smirk, sauntering over to sit on the side of her bed.

Just then Faramir appeared in the doorway and was greeted by Elfhelm. The Steward glanced in and saw Theodred as well, prompting him to quip to the king, “Was there a meeting scheduled that I have overlooked? I do apologize for my tardiness!”

Eowyn eagerly stepped forward and caught his arm, drawing him into the room. “Ignore them! They are being pests!”

“Now, now, Eowyn – is that any way to speak of your king?” Theodred asked, stretching out on her bed and gingerly putting his arms behind his head. 

“If the boot _fits_ , your Majesty, then you must wear it!” she retorted, causing Elfhelm to chuckle.

Sitting up more abruptly than was wise and giving a wince of pain, Theodred stood, then looked Faramir up and down. “One boot _does_ fit, Eowyn – that of your protector. In Eomer’s absence, I shall have to serve.” He crossed his arms as he studied the man before him.

“Ah, then I take it this means Eowyn has shared our news with you,” Faramir said, not at all discomfited by Theodred’s perusal. “My apologies for not speaking to you first, but the circumstances were unusual.”

“I am rather familiar with Gondorian protocols, my lord. Is it not expected that a man will seek permission from her closest male relative before courting a woman, and certainly before publicly kissing her?” Theodred challenged.

“It is; you are correct. However, I was not at all sure Eowyn would wish me to court her, so I thought it best to discover her feelings on the matter first. As for the kiss, well, that was unexpected. For all that I am Steward and a nobleman, I am first and foremost a man. I yielded to the joy of her acceptance and the exquisite temptation she presented! My sincerest apologies for my untoward behavior,” Faramir offered, adding a bow for good measure.

Theodred stared stonily at him for only a moment, before a chuckle erupted. “Well, I cannot fault your sensibilities there, though I do not know that her brother will be so understanding! However, since you have Eowyn’s approbation, and have rekindled the fire in her eyes, Eomer may be willing to forgive your indiscretion.” He stuck out his hand, and Faramir instantly reached for it so that they clasped arms in agreement and fraternity.

Theodred waved the other man to a chair as he sat on the bed once more. “So, tell me what the situation is here. I am at your disposal. Eowyn thinks it may be a while before the company returns, but I do not think I will go to join them. Eomer can continue to lead our men there, and I will do what is needed here.”

“I thank you,” Faramir acknowledged. “I took up my office as Steward some while ago, but there is so much to do and so little precedent. I fear it has and will continue to occupy a good deal of my time, trying to sort through the protocols.” He cast an apologetic look at Eowyn when he saw her face fall at this news. “There is much that needs preparing for the return of the king. Elfhelm has been overseeing defense out on the Pelennor, and they routed the enemy who had invaded Anorien and were blocking the Great West Road. Perhaps you will see if there are any men available among your Riders to help with removing rubble from the City as we try to clear away debris and repair damage. We also have people returning to their homes, so we must see to their needs – make sure their homes are safe for habitation and that food supplies are adequate.” He paused, then added, “Eowyn says you are yet recovering from wounds yourself, so I do not know your limitations. I can counsel with you as to what needs doing, and then let you offer as you feel able to provide assistance.”

“That is agreeable,” Theodred replied, nodding. “I may be limited in knowing how to meet the needs of your people, but certainly I can oversee the Eorlingas and marshal their forces as appropriate. Let me know of your needs and your assets, and I will offer what suggestions I can.”

Once they had settled such formalities, the conversation turned to more relaxed discussion, and the four spent nearly an hour getting better acquainted. As Theodred looked around the room at his companions, he smiled to himself. He had long dreamed of renewed relations with Gondor, and now here he sat, helping bring it to pass. How he wished his father could have been here.

xxx

Part of Theodred dreaded it and part of him was eager for it, but after three days in the City, he knew he must visit his father’s resting place. Faramir and Eowyn kindly accompanied him, but at his request left him to make the actual visit alone while they waited outside. He had been told that he had awakened at the Hornburg, while his father was there, but his mind had been greatly fogged and he quickly fell back into slumber, so he could not particularly remember it. When next he woke, Theoden had already ridden for Dunharrow, and the memory seemed more a dream than a reality. In some ways, he thought he only even remembered it because of what others had told him of the occasion.

It was strange to look on his father, who seemed younger in death than Theodred’s last real remembrance of the king at Meduseld. Then he had been hunched and aged, feeble and confused, looking always to the Worm for guidance on what to say or do. The man lying in state in Gondor’s Hallows seemed strong and proud, and Theodred was grateful to have this last image of him. Eowyn had assured him he died well, boldly leading their countrymen on the battlefield. Unable to check them, tears flowed down his cheeks for all the time that had been stolen from them, but also in gratitude to the wizard who had freed Theoden in the end. When at last he left the tombs, he stood a little straighter, more determined than ever to make his father proud.

The days and weeks thereafter became quite busy for Theodred. It now proved fortunate that his father had insisted that he, Eomer and Eowyn all learn to speak, read and write in Sindarin. As members of the royal household, Theoden had considered it an essential skill if they were to ever have dealings with their neighbors to the south. The two joined Faramir in spending long hours poring over ancient texts, trying to determine the manner in which the crown should be turned over to a new king after so long a time.

In the end, little was found, for the crown had traditionally passed from father to son at death, when the son would go alone to the tomb and take the crown from his father’s hands. In this case, the last king, Earnur, had left the crown on his father’s tomb nearly a thousand years past, and none had since claimed it as Earnur had no children. It was decided that the Steward would retrieve the crown and present it to the new king himself as he relinquished the Stewardship.

Significant progress had been made on clearing the City of debris from the onslaught, and the people had begun to return to their homes, eager to be there for the formal return of their king. Even those who did not reside in the City were desirous of witnessing such a wondrous event, and so visitors were also making their way to Minas Tirith. Eowyn was yet somewhat hampered by her broken arm, but was well able to direct others and so was overseeing the procurement of food and decorations for the feasts and celebrations that would take place.

With the return of her people, the streets of Minas Tirith were bustling with activity. At least it meant there were many hands to work at clearing the damage and making the City attractive. Bouquets of spring flowers were everywhere to be seen, gathered in from the recovering fields and carried from the fertile land in Ithilien, while colorful ribbons fluttered gaily from windows. Not all the scars of war could be removed, but to a very great extent they were able to disguise them behind the simple adornments.

It seemed the first of May approached far too quickly for all that was still unfinished, but with the three of them working together, it eased Faramir’s burden. As the day drew nearer when the host was expected to arrive, an air of excitement filled the City. After so very long, the king was returning! 

Tales and rumors flew about, told and retold until it was difficult to know what was truth and what was fancy. Though Theodred had been told that Aragorn treated him at Helm’s Deep, he was unconscious through it all and so had never actually met the man. By all accounts, he was quite remarkable. Elfhelm told Theodred all that he knew of the new king, and of the close brotherly bond Aragorn shared with Eomer. That his cousin so admired Aragorn was sufficient testimony to Theodred of the man’s worth. Eomer was not easily impressed.

Out on the Pelennor, grass was slowly nudging through the troubled ground, though the constant tramping of feet and hooves hampered its ability to prosper. That would likely have to wait a while yet. Even so, eager workers removed or hid as much evidence of the horrendous battle as they possibly could. Even as much as Theodred appreciated seeing the fruits of their efforts, Faramir was far more affected. Watching his City slowly shake off her mourning garb and be reborn in beauty filled Faramir’s heart with unspeakable joy. Through all the long years of his life he had hoped for such a day, but had begun to fear it would never come. Now it stood before him, even more magnificent than he had imagined.

The last week of April, a ship appeared at the Harlond, and Faramir invited Theodred to join him in riding down to collect his cousins from Dol Amroth. Erchirion and Amrothos, the youngest sons of Imrahil, had ridden to war with their father, but the heir, Elphir, and the only daughter, Lothiriel, had remained to govern Dol Amroth in their father’s absence.

Crewmen were already unloading the ship when they arrived, and Faramir quickly spotted his cousins seeing to their belongings being loaded onto a wagon. “Elphir! Lothiriel!” he called, hastening toward them with Theodred trailing in his wake. Immediately they embraced while the king waited patiently nearby. Like Faramir, the two from Dol Amroth were tall, dark and fair of face. The woman, especially, pleased the eye, and Theodred thought she must look as the Firstborn were rumored to appear. Word had it that Lord Aragorn was accompanied by a number of Elves, so he would soon see them for himself.

Finally, Faramir turned to make introductions, and the siblings fell into their more formal noble posture and behavior. With a grin, to set them at ease, Theodred said, “It is a very great pleasure to meet you both. I understand our families have begun to be intimately entwined – fellowship between your father, brothers and my cousin, as well as your cousin presuming to wed my little cousin!”

The pair looked to Faramir in astonishment. “You are betrothed, Faramir? That is news, indeed!” Lothiriel exclaimed, giving him another hug, and not seeming at all displeased. “I am eager to meet the woman who could finally win your heart! I began to despair you would ever capitulate!”

Faramir chuckled and shrugged. “Not until a wild shieldmaiden rode out of the north did I find one who could ensnare my heart. She is glorious, Thiri! I am sure you will like her!”

“A warrior?” Elphir asked in surprise. “I have occasionally heard mention of shieldmaidens, but I did not think they rode to battle.”

“My cousin is unique, and not typical of the women in the Riddermark, though most are certainly valiant. Eowyn had her own reasons for riding to war, but she is very much a woman as well. Do not be fooled by the title of shieldmaiden,” Theodred explained.

“All the better!” Lothiriel smiled. “Being raised by men, as my mother died when I was very young, I do not always follow the traditional path of women either! I shall enjoy knowing another woman who sets her own course in life!”

Elphir smiled indulgently at his sister, saying, “Just so long as you remember we are in Minas Tirith now, and try to behave accordingly, Sister! You know how shocking they find your native manner!”

Looking at Theodred, Faramir amended, “Do not think my lovely cousin too inappropriate, my lord. She merely views life less rigidly than do most of the nobility in Gondor. And she does not feel the need to adhere to all its stifling strictures. But I think, knowing Eowyn, you will find their sensibilities are very similar.”

Theodred nodded his understanding. “It sounds as though you will fit in well with the Eorlingas, then, my lady. We, too, do not believe in unbending rules and regulations governing our activities. I am glad my cousin will have someone in Gondor with whom she can feel comfortable and be herself.”

“Certainly! And we claim Faramir as one of our own, even if he is only a cousin. When Eowyn is his wife, I shall have more reason to bother visiting the White City!” Lothiriel laughed.

Elphir gestured to the waiting wagon. “It looks as though we are ready. Shall we head into said City and get settled?”

“Of course,” Faramir said. “Oh, you do know your father has opened his house to the Rohirrim, do you not? Eomer was staying with him until they rode to the Black Gate, and Marshal Elfhelm is stationed there so Theodred has taken up residence as well. You will have company, if that is agreeable.”

“Excellent! We do not mind at all. We will have much news to catch up with and perhaps Theodred will be so kind as to do the honors. What is your situation these days, Faramir? I presume they released you from the Houses – are you fully recovered then?” Elphir asked, taking the reins of one of the horses Faramir had brought for his cousins. 

Already Lothiriel had mounted without assistance, riding astride rather than sidesaddle as Theodred had come to expect of the Gondorian ladies. Apparently that was one of the ways in which her ideas differed from the normal view, and he heartily approved. Eowyn would likely be relieved not to be the only one riding in such a manner.

Once the three men were also mounted, Faramir assured his relatives he was well and gave further details of the situation in Minas Tirith. The return ride to the City was quite pleasant, filled with friendly conversation and a beautiful blue spring sky overhead. The darkness and shadows of Mordor seemed but a distant memory now. Both Elphir and Lothiriel were amazed at the changes since their last visit to Minas Tirith almost a year ago, and both the festive decorations and cheerful people calling out greetings made for a memorable entrance into the White City.

Already Theodred was impressed with the manners of the pair from Dol Amroth, and he looked forward to better making the acquaintance of these new arrivals. By all accounts, Rohan could expect a bright future in their relationship with their neighbors to the east and south. When he was younger his father had mentioned more than once a desire to form a closer alliance with the land of his birth. It appeared as though Theodred would finally accomplish the task.

The presence of Elphir and Lothiriel meant there were more hands to make light work of all that still needed doing. Elphir turned his attention to helping Faramir with administrative matters, and getting the City ready. While some work had been done on the King’s house, the two women readily joined together to make sure all was set in order for his return. Rooms were scrubbed thoroughly and aired out, tapestries were cleaned and rehung and the major meeting halls were polished to a pristine appearance under Eowyn’s direction. Meanwhile, Lothiriel was going through the rooms and trying to put some order to whatever clothing was found. Faramir had offered any of Denethor and Boromir’s clothes that could be reworked for the new king’s use, since he had travelled with nothing more than the garments on his back. Having lived her entire life in the company of men, Eowyn had been able to give Lothiriel a reasonable idea of the man’s size and build so she could come fairly close to adjusting them to fit properly.

“Did you meet Boromir?” Lothiriel asked, as they sorted through tunics and other garb strewn across a bed. “I think Faramir mentioned his stopping in Edoras on his journey to Rivendell.”

“Yes, I did. He was only there briefly and we lent him a horse, but it came back riderless. Not until Aragorn came much later did we learn of his fate. He seemed a good man, and a powerful warrior,” Eowyn answered quietly, picturing the Gondorian in her mind.

“He was,” Lothiriel acknowledged sorrowfully, pausing in her task, then lightened the discussion by observing, “but apparently far more substantial than this Ranger who will be our king! I fear there will be much sewing to do if we wish these to fit a leaner man as you have described this Aragorn to be.”

Eowyn laughed. “True! Likely it is the armor. I do not think Aragorn wore much of it, for it would be too heavy for foot travel.” Her voice trailed off as she remembered her first glimpse of him standing in Meduseld with the wizard and their companions. There had certainly not been anything remarkable in his appearance then, though she thought she had detected a certain nobility in his gaze. Even thinking back on it now, she could not deny he was a brave and valiant leader and warrior, and men had followed him most willingly into battle. _She_ had followed him willingly into battle.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Lothiriel’s further queries. “Tell me of your brother. He leads the Rohirrim now that Theoden is fallen?”

“Yes,” Eowyn said pensively. “I…I wonder what will become of him now. He has always been a soldier, as soon as he came of age. I suppose Theodred will keep him as a Marshal of the Mark, but I hope that now he will turn his attention to other things also – perhaps a wife and family. Our whole lives have been caught up in the battle against evil.”

“He will be pleased that you have found a good man to marry, though, will he not?” Lothiriel commented, setting aside two more tunics to be altered, but tossing a third aside as too shabby.

When Eowyn did not immediately respond, she glanced at the older woman and raised an eyebrow. “Is something the matter? Surely he would not object? Aside from the king, you would be wedding the most lordly of men in Gondor. And, even better, he is a man whom you love deeply,” Lothiriel said.

“All of what you say is true,” Eowyn replied. “But…I am not sure how he will feel about my marrying a man of Gondor.” She fell silent, not mentioning that her brother likely knew of her attraction to Aragorn and might find her transfer of affection to be suspect.

Lothiriel, however, was insightful and guessed there was more that was unspoken. There had been comments made here and there by Eowyn and Faramir which did not give any real information, but taken as a sum led her to think there had been someone in Eowyn’s past and that it ended unhappily. _Aragorn…_ The name came up frequently and fondly; perhaps therein lay the answer.

Turning, she took Eowyn’s hands as she sat down on the bed to face her. “And?” she prompted.

Eowyn knew what she was hinting at though she was not comfortable admitting her folly. Still, some part of her wanted to unburden itself, and in Lothiriel’s eyes she saw quiet acceptance. Before she even realized what she was doing, she had poured out her whole story to the other woman, and then waited with bated breath for a reaction.

Slowly Lothiriel rose and then pulled her into an embrace. “Now that I know the whole of it, I am even happier that you have found your peace with Faramir. I think the two of you will be very good for each other. You both have deep wounds that need healing!” She pressed a kiss to Eowyn’s hair, and then drew back, adding teasingly, “But, if we do not get back to work, our new king of Gondor will be dressed only in a suit of armor for that is all that will fit him!”

As she reached to pick up a shirt for closer examination of it, Lothiriel added, “Do not fret about your brother. We will convince him you are happy, and then he cannot help but be happy for you. Faramir will win him over, I am sure!”

Eowyn laughed at the cheery outlook. With Lothiriel as an ally, she could almost believe it was that simple. Besides, Theodred seemed to like Faramir well enough. If nothing else, that should persuade Eomer.

Theodred soon learned of Lothiriel’s knack for drawing people out. Eowyn had not had many women as friends, being more used to the company of men at home, so Theodred was a little surprised by how much Lothiriel knew of his cousin after so short an association. It pleased him, though, that they were getting along so well, and it was evident that Faramir was equally satisfied with their interaction. At meals, the two were thick as thieves in their conversations, sometimes excluding the others around them until someone objected. It had become their habit for all of them to meet for meals, with the exception of dinner, which was taken whenever and wherever they each had time to manage it. But they began and ended each day discussing what needed doing, dividing up the tasks and then reporting back progress over supper.

Despite all their preparations, though, there was still some tension as the first of May drew near. The eve of that auspicious day, in the evening, the host had appeared, settling into the encampment on the Pelennor. Not until sunrise the next morning did Aragorn and a select group approach the gates to the City.

Faramir and Hurin waited at the barrier to the City, while Eowyn found a spot nearby with a good view of the proceedings. Theodred had chosen to remain beside Eowyn for the occasion, not wishing his presence to in any way distract from Gondor’s receiving of her new king. Possibly he should have been more prominent, as the king of Rohan, but he believed it was more important for Gondor to focus on their own monarch. They had waited long years to see this day. And, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he still did not feel as though he were king. He had represented his father on more than one occasion and this seemed just another instance of doing so. Part of him still wanted to believe that Theoden lived and ruled the Riddermark.

Faramir’s two cousins had joined them in the throng, a small guard of soldiers keeping the crowd from pressing in on the royal party. The pair were eager for a glimpse of their father and brothers, to see for themselves that their kinsmen were well. Imrahil was in the group accompanying Aragorn, but the siblings would have to wait a bit longer to spy their brothers, who remained back with the main body.

Theodred and Eowyn had known that Faramir was concerned about his future, now that the king had come and the time of the Stewards had passed, so it was a joyous surprise that Aragorn refused the White Rod and retained the office of Steward for Faramir and his heirs.

“Oh, that is wonderful!” Lothiriel exclaimed softly. “I am so pleased for Faramir.”

Eowyn could not restrain a happy smile, obviously feeling a similar sentiment. Once the people had accepted Aragorn – now Elessar – as their king, and the ceremonies ended, all made their way up through the streets to the Citadel. Elphir and Lothiriel were understandably eager to be reunited with their father and brothers, as were Theodred and Eowyn to greet Eomer. Thinking it better to gather in the upper levels, away from the press of the crowd, they picked their way slowly through the packed streets. Elphir led them all to the Steward’s house, thinking that the best place to congregate, and sent a servant to alert Faramir and their family members as to where they could be found.

All were a little surprised when not only Faramir but also Aragorn turned up at the door for a visit. Most that had been in the king’s company had gone on to the King’s house where he would meet them, but he had taken time to stop by and greet those here first. His presence hampered their reunion for a few moments, but he raised a hand for their attention, telling them, “I do not wish to intrude. I merely wanted to join with you briefly and thank you for all you have done. And for those of you who were injured when last we met, it gives me joy to see you out of your sickbeds and active once more. There will be feasting later, I am sure, where we may visit, but for now I leave you to greet your families. Good day!”

He was gone almost before they knew it, and then there were tears of joy and relief as family members reunited. Once the first blush was off their greetings, introductions were made between those who had not previously met. There was much confusion and conversation, though mostly family groups stayed close to family groups, loath to be parted from them even for an instant. Gradually, though, as Eomer stood talking to Theodred, his sister wandered back to Faramir’s side. For a time, Eomer continued in his conversation with his cousin, but his eyes kept flicking to Eowyn as though he could not see enough of her. 

As he watched her talking to the Steward, however, a crease formed between his eyes. Unless he was mistaken, the pair seemed to be standing much closer than was commonly acceptable, and he was surprised at how often one of them touched the other’s arm. When he saw Faramir take Eowyn’s hand and brush his thumb tenderly over her knuckles, he had seen enough. His jaw tightened and he took a step toward them, only to be met by Theodred’s hand on his chest, staying him. Instantly, his questioning gaze shifted to his king.

With a small sigh, Theodred told him softly, “He is a good man, Eomer. I have come to know him this past month, and Eowyn truly does love him. I am sure he will speak to you as soon as circumstances permit, but…let it be. She is happy – finally.”

Eomer stared at him for several long moments, then looked back at his sister. He could not deny that when he had left her in the Houses, prior to the Host departing, she had been troubled and despairing. That was not the woman who now stood before him. Indeed, he could scarce remember ever seeing her so joyful, and full of life and light. With a sigh, he relaxed where he stood, no longer pressing against Theodred’s restraining hand. “Tell me all,” he instructed quietly, and so Theodred told him everything that he knew of the couple’s association, and what he had learned of Faramir.

“He still should have asked me!” Eomer hissed in annoyance, eliciting a grin from his cousin.

“True! But you were not here and, like most men, he could not wait! So, since I was available, I gave my consent to their courtship in your stead. I did not think you would mind. And he has behaved honorably. Yes, the kiss he gave her was unusual, especially by Gondorian standards, but any man of Rohan would steal a kiss from his beloved! Even _you_ , my brother!” Theodred observed.

At length, Eomer grinned sheepishly. “Yes, I suppose that is so. And better in full view of others than hidden in some dark corner where more might occur of which I would not approve!”

Whether she noticed they had drawn Eomer’s attention, or she simply felt eager to further the courtship, Eowyn promptly brought Faramir over to become better acquainted with her brother. Something in Faramir’s gaze suggested he had guessed that Eomer knew of their alliance, so he did not delay in formally asking to speak with him. When it was granted, Faramir asked, “Would you wish to withdraw to somewhere private, or shall I speak freely?”

Impressed by the honest, direct approach, Eomer nodded at him. “Speak. I will hear what you have to say.”

Without hesitation, the Steward expressed his deep love and admiration for Eowyn, and his inexpressable joy that his feelings were requited. “I most humbly ask your permission to court and marry your sister, my lord. I shall endeavor all the days of my life to make her happy,” Faramir fervently avowed.

Listening near his elbow, Eowyn became choked up at his words, overwhelmed by the passion of them. Fresh astonishment swept over her at this declaration of his great love. Her brother’s eyes stared keenly at Faramir for several moments, and then shifted to study her. At last, he asked, “Do you wish to accept his suit, Eowyn?”

She nodded, unable just then to form words, but her feelings were plain to see on her face. Momentarily, Eomer shut his eyes, saddened by what this would mean, but then he opened them and smiled warmly at her. “Then so be it, little sister. I wish you joy!” He pulled her to him, kissed her brow and then held her tightly in his embrace.

Not far from them, Lothiriel watched silently, relieved that it seemed to have gone well. As she had predicted, Eomer had been won over. Eowyn had indicated that he could sometimes be quick-tempered, so Lothiriel was glad that he had given Faramir a chance. Clearly, he had recognized the truth of the situation and wanted only what was best for his sister. She was pleased for both Eowyn and Faramir.

Her eyes lingered on the young man a little longer. Eowyn’s description of her brother had been intriguing, and the reality standing before her was not a disappointment. His good looks and bravery were inarguable; that he also had good sense only added to his appeal.

Just then, Amrothos drew Lothiriel back into conversation and she turned her attention from the Rohirrim, not noticing that Eomer’s eyes had fallen upon her as he spoke with his future brother-in-law. They had been briefly introduced, but the rush to greet family had taken precedence over pleasantries with strangers. When Eomer had previously been in the City, before they rode on the Black Gate, there had been few women present, save the ones working in the Houses of Healing. With the ultimate battle still before them and their fate yet to be decided, he had taken little notice. Now, with victory won and much to celebrate, he was more aware of the many dark-haired beauties of this land. This one in particular seemed to possess almost an Elf-like glow to her, and if he judged by Eowyn’s comments she had a pleasing manner as well. Something stirred inside him, and he looked quickly away. He was a soldier and she was the daughter of a Prince – might as well check such thoughts right now. She was not meant for the likes of him. Regardless of his conviction in the matter, however, he could not keep his eyes from periodically flicking in her direction.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I am aiming for a posting schedule of Wed. (after 3 pm PDT) & Sat. (before noon PDT). If that doesn't happen, I've had computer/internet problems or I've forgotten.

Chapter 3 (begins 1 May, 3019 III)

The celebration that night was quite exuberant. Clearly, despite the rejoicing that had been done at Cormallen, the Host was still in high spirits. Sounds of music and laughter drifted up from the Pelennor encampment, as well as from every level of the City. In the Merethrond, a fine meal had been enjoyed and now they were readying for further merriment. Theodred tested his strength by dancing the first one with Lothiriel, but that was sufficient to persuade him he had best ration his efforts if he was to last the evening. Though he gained ground daily, his stamina was frustratingly slow in returning, and he still tired far more easily than he would have liked. At least in that, the sedate Gondorian dances were more accommodating than those of the Mark.

Lady Lothiriel was on the floor numerous times with her brothers, and other men eager to squire her, but she seemed to make a particular effort to spend time keeping him company also. He was grateful for her consideration, though he had been trying to avoid inconveniencing anyone on his behalf. In some ways, not having ridden to battle, he felt like an interloper at this festivity. It was different for the citizens – they did not normally take up arms – but for him, doing so was second nature. To have done no fighting and then show up for the victory party seemed presumptuous, even knowing that he had not had a choice in the matter.

Whether Lothiriel guessed his reason or not, she was quite gracious when he offered thanks for her solicitude. “Think nothing of it, my lord. In truth, I do not enjoy these dull court dances so very much. In Dol Amroth, though the nobility does engage in such, most of the people are more prone to doing their lively folk jigs. I find those much more appealing,” she told him.

He grinned at her. “All the more reason for you to visit the Mark! We, too, prefer lively jigs to this staid offering, even at court.”

“I am eager to visit your homeland, and Father has mentioned our coming,” she confessed, sharing a companionable smile with him before turning once more to watch the activity before them.

“Eomer!” Theodred chuckled after a moment.

Lothiriel’s eyes followed his gaze to where Eomer was concertedly guiding an admiring lady through the dance paces. He moved with surprising grace and skill for such a large man and consummate warrior, though he did not seem at ease on the dance floor. To her eyes, he looked to be concentrating very hard on each move that he made, careful not to mis-step.

Elaborating, Theodred said, “The ladies _do_ enjoy being with him, but then he is a handsome man and genial company. He did not appreciate at the time my father insisting he learn to dance! Now, I think, he is grateful!”

“He is your cousin?” Lothiriel clarified, recalling mention of that detail from their earlier introduction. She tended to forget that Theodred and Eowyn were related as they looked so dissimilar. Theodred had previously explained that he inherited the dark hair of his Gondorian grandmother, and so stood out amidst the golden heads of Rohan.

“Yes, and brother. His father was killed by orcs, and his mother succumbed to grief soon after. Then he and Eowyn came to live with us at Meduseld. With no siblings of my own, I enjoyed having them there, and we grew very close.” He gave a smirk, adding, “The Worm thought he could turn us against one another, but that would never happen. Eomer’s heart is as true as mine, and we both know it. Lies would never change that.”

Theodred’s mood seemed to have shifted, and Lothiriel was hesitant to press him with questions, but when he remained silent as he watched Eomer dance, she finally ventured, “You seem troubled, my lord. Is it something of which you would speak?”

Her words pulled him from his reverie, and he rubbed a hand over his face. At length, he explained, “I worry for Eomer. For all the female attention he receives, he will not give his heart lightly. And when he does, he will give it completely. Such is his nature – he does nothing halfheartedly. It is one of the reasons he is so very good as a warrior and a friend. But in his devotion to his king, I fear he will sacrifice his own happiness. I do not wish that for him. Just as I feared for Eowyn, I fear for him.” There was a long pause, and then Theodred grinned. “But, all has turned out well for Eowyn. I will hope that Eomer suffers a similar fate, and push him to make it so. I need good and true men beside me, but I also need my beloved brother to be happy.”

“And do you worry as much about your own happiness?” Lothiriel inquired curiously.

Theodred smiled. “Eowyn was right about you – you do ask very straightforward questions!”

“I am nosy, you mean,” Lothiriel replied bluntly, not seeming bothered by his remark. “I like answers to my questions, and I find I do not get them unless I ask very clearly what I want to know. Even in personal matters such as this! So? Have I offended you, or will you indulge me?”

His grin broadened. “It is not necessary for me to worry about myself – Eomer does that for me!”

She laughed easily, but observed, “Still, I think there must be _some_ effort on your part.”

Theodred sighed, his countenance sobering. “Yes, that is so. Now that the War has ended, I will need to marry and provide an heir – or several, if I can manage it! The Mark will not be easy until I have ensured the House of Eorl will continue.”

Lothiriel’s features grew pensive. “Do…do the Rohirrim marry for love or duty, my lord? Gondorian nobility has a propensity for advantageous alliances rather than unions of the heart.”

The king looked closely at her, wondering at the reason for the question, but merely answered, “Advantage is sometimes involved, but we make a practice of marrying for love. Life is too difficult to do otherwise.”

She nodded. “I agree. I only hope I am able to avoid doing things as Gondor decrees. But, I believe Father will not press me to marry where I do not find affection, and our new King does not seem to be a man who would encourage him to do so.”

Neither was quite sure how they had gotten onto such an awkward subject, or how to turn it to more neutral ground. For his part, Theodred found himself wondering if she was hinting at something with him. They had been much in one another’s company since her arrival, and he found her quite pleasant. Possibly there would be pressure to consider marriage, and with such an appropriate lady. Certainly it would strengthen ties with Gondor, not a displeasing prospect, but surely Eowyn’s marriage to their Steward would suffice?

Both had returned their gaze to the dancers and lapsed into silence. As the current promenade concluded, Eomer came to join them, offering a polite bow to Lothiriel even as he closely eyed Theodred. “How do you fare, my lord?” he questioned with concern.

Theodred scowled at him. “Do not be such a mother hen, Eomer! You are as bad as Elfhelm! I am well enough. In case you have not noticed, I am a grown man and know how to care for myself. I did not lose that ability when I ascended to the throne!”

His cousin grinned. “True, but before you ascended to the throne, you were not nearly so valuable to us!”

Theodred cuffed his shoulder playfully. “Be gone with you, pup! Here, dance with this lovely lady and leave me in peace. Lady Lothiriel, would you be so kind as to rid me of this nuisance for a time, by dancing the next two with him?”

Lothiriel smiled at their byplay, but curtsied to the both of them. “I would be honored to assist Rohan’s king in any way that I can!” she assured teasingly.

For a moment, Eomer hesitated, then tentatively offered his arm to her. As she took it, he glanced at Theodred. “Do not think this is the end of it, my king. You will not escape my attentions so easily!”

Theodred’s laughter followed them to the floor, and he called after Eomer, “I do not doubt it for an instant!”

As they took up their positions, Eomer quietly told his partner, “I am sorry my cousin dragged you into this dispute, my lady. He has never been one to fight fair.”

She smiled at the man across from her. “Then, you do not wish to dance the next two with me?”

Eomer flushed slightly at her remark. “No, that is not what I meant. I merely did not want you to feel…obligated.”

As the music began, she took the opening step toward him, saying softly, “I assure you, my lord, I am well able to escape onerous duties when I wish. I have watched you – you are an excellent dancer.”

His brow knit with surprise and they moved away from each other, weaving around the other couples for several steps before returning to close proximity. “I…thank you,” he mumbled, unsure how to take the compliment.

Her smile broadened, but after that she turned her remarks to more innocuous subjects – the weather, the festivities and his sister’s union with her cousin. Her banter seemed to help him relax somewhat in her company, so when the second dance concluded, she took his arm and asked, “The Hall has grown warm and close, my lord. Will you fetch us drinks and then walk with me out on the terrace?”

Again Eomer eyed her cautiously, but nodded his willingness to do as she asked. He escorted her to the door which exited onto the terrace, then snared goblets of wine for them from a passing server. She led the way to a bench and seated herself, accepting the drink he held out to her.

“So, Eomer of Rohan, tell me something of yourself. Your sister sings your praises…though, to be honest, she does not hesitate to point out your shortcomings also! She has told me much of her homeland and her brother, but I would hear what you have to say on the matter. I always believe in allowing someone to defend themself.” She took a sip of her wine, looking up at him with laughing eyes through her long lashes.

For the first time since they had left Theodred, he finally seemed to let down his guard, if only a little, and gave her a small smile that greatly improved his too often serious countenance. After a moment’s thought, he shrugged. “There is not much to tell. I am, or was, Third Marshal of the Riddermark, defending the East-mark for my king. I have been a soldier all of my life.”

“Was? You do not think Theodred King will keep you in that position?” Lothiriel asked, continuing to sip at her wine as she gazed questioningly at him.

Eomer sighed, staring down into his goblet. “I do not know what Theodred…King intends. Now that we will no longer be at war, he may wish to do things differently.” He paused to take a swallow of his drink, then added, “I will simply have to wait and see what he asks of me.”

For a few moments Lothiriel was silent, then eyed him curiously. “And what do _you_ wish for, my lord? Do you _want_ to continue as Third Marshal, or would you turn to a more peaceful occupation now that war is past? Surely, as his cousin – and he seems quite fond of you – the king would consider your wishes in his decision regarding you.”

Eomer’s eyes flicked up to meet her gaze, and then flitted away when he saw her studying him in the moonlight. “I…I had never given the matter much thought. I rather expected to perish in the war and not be given a choice. But even though the war against Sauron is past, and Saruman is also defeated, there will still be battles and need for defense of our lands. I will serve in any way that Theodred wishes, and if he chooses to release me from his service then…then I suppose I will return home and raise horses.”

Lothiriel nodded pensively, then looked up again. “And is there a lady to share this life with you, whichever one you end up living?”

Eomer shifted with embarrassment. “No, not at present. I did not wish to bind myself to someone and leave her a widow, and there has not been much time for courting of ladies in the past few years anyway.” 

She smiled at him. “Perhaps not, but judging by the attentiveness of Gondor’s ladies, I do not think you will have trouble finding a willing companion. I would assume ladies of the Mark would not differ appreciably in that respect.” She glanced back toward the doors leading to the hall, where even now a few ladies loitered, eyeing Eomer from afar.

Unnerved by the conversation, Eomer straightened and drained his wine glass. “Shall we return inside now?” he inquired.

Seeming to sense his discomfiture, she nodded and rose, catching his arm. As they moved toward the Hall, she said quietly, “I hope I did not offend you with my curiosity, my lord. I do want to understand you and your people, and talking to them individually seems the best way of doing it. Lord Theodred and your sister have given me their views of the future, and I merely wondered at yours.”

She felt him relax once more under her hand, but kept her gaze straight ahead rather than look at him. “I am not offended,” he finally told her. “It is just unusual for the women of my acquaintance to ask such blunt questions.”

“Indeed? I thought the Rohirrim were plain-spoken,” she said, now glancing at him.

“They are, but they do not usually employ it to ask…personal questions,” he admitted.

She laughed. “Ah! But, then, they are your neighbors, and likely may learn of you through observation. In my case, you will leave soon and my only means of information is to ask questions. Again, my apologies if I have been too forward. My father warns me to curb my tongue, but once my curiosity takes hold, I find it difficult to keep silent.”

They had reached the Hall once more, by which time Eomer was feeling decidedly unsettled by their conversation. The lady had given every indication that she favored his cousin, and such a match would be most appropriate. He had even overheard some remarks made about it, including by her own father. Why, then, was she showing such interest in a mere Marshal of the Mark? Was this truly idle curiosity or something more? Either way, it made him uneasy and he thought it best to keep a safe distance from her in the future. 

Not that it would be easy to do so. With Eowyn now aligned with her cousin, and his own friendship with her father and brothers, they were apt to be thrown together on many occasions. And if there was something forming between her and Theodred, he could not avoid the association. Bad enough that he was housed under the same roof as the lady whilst in Minas Tirith. The return home could not come soon enough. 

He had little experience with women, especially noblewomen who were full of wiles. It had seemed every woman he met this evening had flirted and fawned over him, or they sought to ingratiate themselves with him before pressing him to introduce them to his king. Whatever Lothiriel’s purpose, and regardless of how attractive he found her – something that was difficult to deny – he was not what anyone concerned would look for as a potential suitor to a daughter of Dol Amroth’s Prince.

Excusing himself, Eomer gave a short bow and hurried away. While they had been gone, Theodred had managed to disappear, and he could only hope his cousin had withdrawn to rest. He knew Theodred better than did most, and though his cousin would not readily admit fatigue, he had learned to recognize it in his eyes. Leaning against a pillar after fetching another glass of wine, Eomer rubbed a tired hand over his face. He was not cut out for all this courtly posturing. Give him the straightforward matter of combat with a few orcs any day, rather than these conversations with veiled meanings and purpose.

Unconsciously, his eyes flicked around the Hall, and not until they lit upon Lady Lothiriel, conversing with her brother off to his right, did he realize he had actually been looking for her. Her questions had raised thoughts he had long suppressed. Now that war was largely ended, it _was_ time to consider a wife. But it did not help that, at the moment, the strongest inclination he was feeling in that direction appeared to be toward the dark-haired beauty whose company he had just fled. He had never been so strongly attracted to a woman after so little acquaintance, and he pointedly reminded himself that this could only be an infatuation that would soon pass. No, she was not an option. Most likely she would end up being Theodred’s queen, and Eomer would eventually find some pleasant woman of the Mark to wed. He drained the rest of his wine without tasting it. He was growing morose; time to call it a night and find his own bed.

xxxxx

“Theodred! It is not my place!” Eomer exclaimed in frustration. “You are the king, and it should be you who represents us.”

“Cousin,” Theodred sighed, “I understand that. But I also understand that to Gondor, you are the image of Rohan. You are the one they have seen leading our men into battle, and you are the one who has stood victorious on the field of war. You are the close friend of their king and Prince Imrahil, as well as having your sister about to be betrothed to their Steward. I will stand in my place as King of Rohan, but I want you beside me as the familiar face they expect and love. Please – your king requires this of you!”

Both of them knew that on the steps of Meduseld, Theoden had named Eomer his heir when it was believed that Theodred was lost. Though Eomer would never have aspired to such a thing, he was prepared to do as his king commanded. All that had changed when they reached the Hornburg and discovered Elfhelm’s deception. Eomer had been overjoyed to find his beloved cousin yet lived, never hesitating for a moment to relinquish his claim on the throne in that very instant. Now, what Theodred asked of him seemed to muddy the water considerably.

“I…I would not have any in doubt as to who Rohan’s king is, Theodred. I am completely content to serve you, as I always intended,” Eomer avowed.

Placing a hand on his cousin’s shoulder, Theodred smiled. “This I know. But circumstances have played out strangely, and we must work with what we are given. Do this for me now. It is merely for show, for Gondor’s sake. At home, our people will readily understand who is their leader.”

Eomer scowled at the floor, but reluctantly nodded, acquiescing to his king’s request. “Very well, if you insist.” He picked up one of the tunics spread on Theodred’s bed, looking to see if it would fit him. Lady Lothiriel had joined with his sister in procuring suitable attire for their audience with King Elessar, since both men had ridden to Gondor with only serviceable clothing.

Theodred grinned at him. “When will you stop being so serious all the time? It was necessary the past few years, I admit, but no longer. I would have you enjoy life and our victory. I would have you find a lovely maiden and woo her into marriage. Let not Eowyn be the only one to find happiness.”

His cousin raised an eyebrow at him. “And will you also be following this counsel? The Mark would be pleased to have a queen at your side, and a few heirs at your feet,” Eomer observed.

A snicker preceded a shrug. “All in due course. You cannot deny that a crown has made me a far more attractive prospect to the ladies!”

With a snort, Eomer demanded, “Will you never stop your jesting? You know this is important!”

“I do,” Theodred conceded, “but I will not be pressed to act in haste; neither will I allow others to do my choosing for me.” He paused, then confided, “And I do have a lady in mind. But I will not reveal her until we have an understanding, and that may be a while yet.”

“Do I know her?” Eomer probed teasingly, slipping the tunic over his head.

“None of that, cousin! But, yes, you are acquainted with the lady. More I will not tell you.” Theodred sat down to tug on his boots.

“And is she of the Mark or Gondor?” Eomer pressed, wanting to learn all that he could. He had never been aware of Theodred favoring one lady over another.

“Enough! I said _no more_!” Theodred exclaimed with a laugh. “Now, come, comb your hair and let us be going. King Elessar will be waiting, and we must not be late.”

The two finished their preparations, and then made their way to the entry hall of Imrahil’s house. As they arrived, Imrahil and his sons appeared from the Prince’s study. “Are we all ready to go, then?” Imrahil asked.

Theodred glanced around. “Is not your daughter joining us?” he queried.

“She will meet us there,” Imrahil explained. “She is helping Lady Eowyn prepare.”

A muscle twitched in Eomer’s jaw. Was there no escaping the lady and her kindnesses toward his family? Her efforts made him feel guilty for wanting to avoid her, even as he recognized the wisdom of doing so. Theodred’s words earlier, and his interest in where she was now, suggested she might well be the lady he had in mind for marriage. She was beautiful, to be sure, as well as charming, witty, talented and very much…perhaps ‘natural’ was the best word for it. For all her noble birth, she did not hesitate to roll up her sleeves and help wherever needed. That would serve in good stead in the Mark, for the queen of Rohan would not be an idler. But even as he tried to keep a safe distance from her, he could not help envying Theodred’s being so easy with her – his ability to court her at will.

He had not particularly wanted to be Theoden’s heir or have the kingship of Rohan, though he had been quite willing to step forward when needed. But, in this one thing, he could desire it – that it would give him the position and status necessary to approach such a woman as an equal, and be able to openly court her. Her gentle manner and infectious good humor drew him to her even as he fought the attraction. He was very much looking forward to returning home. Once there, he would have little reason to be in her company afterwards. Whether as a Marshal of the Mark or merely a lord of Aldburg, he could blot her from his view, and hopefully, eventually, from the tiny corner of his heart where she seemed determined to take up residence. If she became Theodred’s bride, it would be difficult seeing her, but in time he hoped that would lessen, and that a bride of his own would turn his heart in a more appropriate direction.

Eomer’s thoughts had consumed him for most of the walk to the Citadel, but now he had to focus his attention as they came before Aragorn. Uncertain as to his role, he stayed a step behind Theodred, allowing his cousin to represent Rohan.

Aragorn rose to smile at them both, and then the king spoke loudly so that all the gathering could hear. “In happy hour did Eorl ride from the North, and never has any league of peoples been more blessed, so that neither has ever failed the other, nor shall fail. Here stands Theodred King, ruler of Rohan, and Eomer, Marshal of the Mark. Many of you will not know King Theodred, for he was sorely wounded in his own land, and unable to ride to our aid. Thus it was that Eomer rode at the side of Theoden King to do battle on our behalf. Then, though not yet fully healed, when he heard of the Host riding to confront Mordor, Theodred came to help however he could, here at Minas Tirith, in our absence. Meanwhile, Eomer mustered the Rohirrim to ride at our side. Truly both these men are our brothers and have blessed us with their presence.”

The gathering cheered as the king told them about this stranger standing beside Eomer. At length, Aragorn turned back to gaze at Theodred, saying, “As you know, we have laid Theoden the Renowned in a tomb in the Hallows, and there he shall lie for ever among the Kings of Gondor, if you will. Or if you desire it, we will come to Rohan and bring him back to rest with his own people.”

Theodred reached to clasp Aragorn’s outstretched arm, before replying, “I must depart for a while to my own realm, where there is much to heal and set in order. But as for the Fallen, when all is made ready we will return for him; but here let him sleep a while. Eomer has told me much of your dealings with our people, not the least of which was aiding in my own healing. Truly, it is not just Gondor who has been blessed by our renewed alliance. We look forward to many long years of friendship between our people.”

As the formalities ended, the crowd slowly began to disperse. Realizing that it would not be much longer before they left for Rohan, Eowyn drifted away with Faramir to bid him a private farewell, promising to return once she had helped Theodred and her brother set the kingdom in order, and seen Theoden laid to rest.

A small group remained with Aragorn, including Theodred, Eomer and Imrahil’s family, quietly conversing. While he stood observing, Eomer felt a hand on his arm and looked down to find Lady Lothiriel beside him. “The tunic fits you well, my lord. It would seem Eowyn and I managed to adjust it sufficiently to fit you. You are a bit taller and broader than my brothers.”

“This belonged to one of your brothers?” Eomer inquired politely, somewhat discomfited by her touch.

“Yes – Erchirion. Fortunately not all our livery is in blue, and we managed to find green ones for you and your cousin. Eowyn had a fairly good idea of your sizes, so we were able to rework them accordingly.” She brushed a hand over the fabric, smoothing the cloth, and for a brief moment, his breath caught in his throat. While her naturalness was admirable, it was also disconcerting when a man was attracted to a woman. At this particular moment, he very much wished she would behave in a more formal manner with him.

Whether sensing his unease or for some other reason, she turned her attention to watching the crowd dispersing, and he was able to regain his composure. A few moments later, she asked, “When will you depart for Rohan?”

“Theodred has mentioned leaving on the eighth. We should have all arranged by then.” He took the opportunity to edge a little farther away from her nearness.

“And when do you return for Theoden?” she pressed, smiling up at him.

“I believe it will be sometime in July or thereabouts. We have much to do in preparation. The Mark was extremely devastated by Saruman, and we would not bury our king in haste, without due honor,” he told her softly.

She nodded. “Of course. Father has mentioned coming for the funeral. I look forward to joining him for the journey, and seeing your homeland with my own eyes.”

Once again, he tensed. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t anticipated that she might accompany her family, but her announcement was still unexpected. Even so, with Meduseld filled to bursting with guests, he would likely be able to avoid most contact with her. It need not be too much of a challenge, though the thought of her in the Golden Hall sent a thrill through him. How he would like to be free to show her his home, hoping to find pleasure in her eyes and an eagerness to linger there with him. Drawing a slow, steadying breath, he forced the notion deep within him. Fanciful thoughts – that’s all they were or would ever be.

She eyed him curiously, possibly noticing his silence, before asking, “Is there anything I may do to help you and your cousin prepare for your departure? If there is, I hope you will not hesitate to ask.”

“I cannot think of anything at present, but I thank you for your offer,” he acknowledged stiffly. 

Her brow knit slightly at his aloofness, and then she breathed a small sigh. “You are most welcome, my lord.” Offering a curtsy, she added, “If you will excuse me.”

He nodded to her as she moved away from him, and he puzzled over her behavior. He had almost sensed frustration in her, but why would that be? Perhaps she did not realize the effect she had upon him, and the reason he felt the need to keep her distanced from him. 

He had met no other woman who so intrigued him. When they gathered with her family in the evenings after supper, he found no greater pleasure than in listening to her singing while she played a small lap harp. Even when he was not involved in the conversation, he found his ears pricking to catch her every word, and in every gathering he could not keep his eyes from wandering in her direction. How was it that in battle he could be so disciplined over self, but when it came to this grey-eyed beauty of Dol Amroth he lost all control of his senses?

He shook himself mentally, and let his gaze fall upon Theodred. He would serve his king, even if it meant stepping away from such a woman. He _must_ do this. Imrahil’s approbation of him was not likely to extend to wanting him for a son-in-law.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> Footnote: When Aragorn speaks to Eomer and Theodred, in front of the court of Gondor, prior to their departure for Rohan after the war (early May), some of the dialogue is taken directly from Tolkien, some of it is paraphrased Tolkien and some of it is mine. The material point being that it's not all my words.


	4. Chapter 4

His status as king would have permitted Aragorn to remain at the Citadel, and have the Rohirrim come to farewell him there. But he was not a man to stand on such ceremony. Instead, he met them in the courtyard of Imrahil’s home as Theodred, Eomer and Eowyn readied themselves and said their goodbyes, and then rode with them down through the City. Elfhelm had long since ridden on ahead to prepare the troops for departure, but the trio from the Mark was both surprised and pleased to exit from the City to find the road toward the northern gate lined with the citizens of Minas Tirith. They must have risen very early in order to be in position by now, as the morning was still quite young, and this display of honor was overwhelming. 

Had it not been for the wounded traveling with them, they might have set a livelier pace, eager to return home. However, the wains were full of those not yet well enough to manage a mount – if one could have been found for them. Even so, the men sat proudly until they had cleared the outer wall, and were out of sight of the people assembled to see them off. There would yet be dark days for many of them, as they readjusted to life with missing or maimed limbs, and other enduring injuries or scars, but for these few moments they could savor their victory.

The first couple of days of travel found Eomer in a pensive mood. Theodred and Eowyn were returning to Rohan mainly knowing what their future held. He alone was adrift, with more questions than answers. As if sensing his turmoil, their fourth day out, Theodred invited him to share supper in his tent. Until now, they had dined at the fire with the men, so Eomer knew that his cousin had something on his mind.

The meal was largely eaten in silence, but then as they relaxed with a mug of ale afterwards, the king eyed his cousin closely. “So, little brother, what are your plans now?”

Eomer met his gaze. “What would you have me do? I serve my king, as always.”

Theodred looked thoughtfully down into his mug. “True enough – you have ever been faithful in that regard. But that is not my question. What is it that you _wish_ to do from here on? Almost from the day you reached manhood, the Mark has needed you fighting for her safety, just as your father did before you.” He lifted his gaze to the other man. “It would be quite within reason if you now wanted to lay down your arms and live a quiet life at Aldburg.”

Eomer sighed deeply. “I have considered that, but I am not sure that I would know how to live a quiet life. If you wish it, I would be content to continue serving as Third Marshal, but perhaps I will turn more responsibility over to the captains of my eoreds and do less actual fighting myself. You and I really only rode to battle so often because it was necessary. With the war ended, such need should be greatly reduced if not entirely removed.”

Swirling the ale in his mug, it was a few moments before Theodred responded. “I have been considering making some changes. What do you think if I dispense with having a Second and Third Marshal, and just have a Marshal of each the East-mark and the West-mark. I will keep Elfhelm as Marshal in Edoras, of the forces there to maintain the city, make you Marshal of the East-mark, and name Erkenbrand as Marshal of the West-mark. You could, as you say, allow your captains to do more of the daily tasks, while you remain at Aldburg giving instructions. You could be as involved as you choose. Would that suit you? The only thing…”

“What?” Eomer pressed, when he did not finish his sentence.

His cousin looked up, and inhaled deeply before he smiled. “I would wish to spend more time with you, and make use of your counsel. All through the difficulties we faced these past years, always your reasoning was sensible and sound. But more than that, I have missed _you_. We were once as close as brothers, but these years of war have kept us separated. I would hope that will not continue to be so now that we have found peace.” He chuckled. “I would say the same of Eowyn, but with her determination to go off and marry a Gondorian, I do not think I may expect to see much of her!”

Eomer laughed at his words. “No, that is true! But Aldburg is not so far from Edoras, and I would come however often you wished it. Maybe even more than you wished, if you are not careful! Someone must come and spoil your sons, and then teach them to be warriors. Their father is getting too old and decrepit for such things!” he teased.

“Impudent upstart!” Theodred retorted, his grin belying his words. “I am not so aged and decrepit that you would not still find me a challenge!” He paused, then added, “I will admit, though, you are the best warrior I have ever seen. Your father would be proud.”

“If I am so, then you may take much of the credit. It was you who spent so much time helping me develop my skills, and helping to focus my anger on something worthwhile,” Eomer commented quietly. After several moments of silence, he suggested, “I think your plan will work, and Erkenbrand will do well in that respect. Elfhelm’s ability you already know. And I will always offer you whatever wise counsel I am able. As I said, I am ever at your service, just as I was for your father. And I will not allow the trivial distance between Aldburg and Edoras to keep us separated. We shall find excuses enough for one or the other of us to make the journey. If nothing else, I am on the way to Gondor, where likely you will visit more often now!”

“True! Did you ever think we would see such a day as this? Gondor with a king and peace through much of Middle-earth? Despite all our efforts and how hard we fought, I do not think I ever truly believed we could win.”

Eomer nodded, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Even when Aragorn rose up from the grass that day, I did not realize how much the tide was turning. We have seen strange and marvelous things these past few months, legends sprung to life.” His eyes shifted to his cousin as he sat up again. “But one of the most welcome sights was finding you still alive at the Deep, hidden from voracious eyes that sought to destroy you. Elfhelm could not have known that help had come; he was wise to protect you as he did. Had things gone differently, you might have been needed to stand alone for Rohan at the end.”

Silence fell between them, until Theodred reached to pour more ale into their mugs. “We grow morbid, cousin! I would celebrate the good, not relive the bad. I will further consider the changes I wish to make, and I welcome your suggestions. But whether you object or not, I _will_ see you happy! I want this victory to include all of us, and you have earned some happiness.”

“As have you, Theodred,” Eomer replied warmly, lifting his mug toward his king in salute.

xxxxx

There was much to do at Edoras for the short time they had before returning to Mundburg. Eowyn set the household on its ear seeing it thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom. There would be many guests coming for Theoden’s funeral, and they all wanted the Golden Hall to appear at its very best. Eomer spent much of his time riding out to assess damages and needs across the Mark. It was tiring and discouraging work, but essential for Theodred to know where they stood and what needed accomplishing before winter was upon them. Erkenbrand had surveyed many of the farther settlements in the West-mark, and then met up with Eomer to pass along his report. It was the only way they could cover most of the Mark before the time came to return to Minas Tirith.

The East-mark was more sparsely populated, and Eomer had been able to draw most of the outlying villagers in closer to Edoras despite Grima’s interference. Many of these people were nomadic, following pasture for the herds, and so they were more used to having temporary lodging. 

The Westfold, though, was more cropland and Saruman had done greater damage there, closer to his stronghold at Isengard. Further, timber was somewhat scarce for rebuilding, they were shorthanded of men to do the actual work of constructing homes and barns, and with summer almost upon them it was getting late for planting anything. 

It quickly became evident that food and clothing were in short supply, and not easily replaced in time. Much as it hurt their pride to go begging, Eomer persuaded his cousin to seek aid from Gondor. “Aragorn will help us, until we can get crops in the ground and harvested. They owe us at least that much recompense for our efforts in their behalf. Gondor did not suffer nearly so much as we did, and they have sufficient to share. Faramir told me so.”

Theodred sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before finally nodding his assent. “I know, we must. There is no other option for us. Saruman meant to utterly destroy us…and he very nearly succeeded.”

“But he did not,” Eomer said vehemently. “For all his contempt of us, still we came off the victor!”

Theodred looked up at him, and then they grinned at one another. “True enough! We may have had appreciable help from a wizard, Ents and the heir of Isildur, but Saruman was also defeated by Men, Elves, Dwarves and a few Hobbits! That must stick in his craw!”

xx

The time flew past, and before they knew it, Theodred and Eomer were on the road south once more. It had surprised Eomer how little Theodred had spoken of Lady Lothiriel since their departure, and he almost gave the impression of having no particular attraction to her. He supposed that might be due to the circumstances. Perhaps his cousin did not feel it appropriate for him to court a woman until after his father was buried.

As for himself, Eomer was frustrated with the amount of time his mind dwelled on her. It seemed both waking and sleeping, his thoughts turned to her, and he was equally eager and reluctant to see her once more. At least once the funeral was done it would be several months before they encountered one another again. He was to trothplight his sister to Faramir after Theoden’s funeral, and there had been mention of a spring wedding. When that was over, he could breathe more freely.

The Gondorians had been busy in their absence. The repairs to the Rammas Echor were proceeding apace, and already there were crops growing on the Pelennor. It was a relief to see the battleground renewed with life, gradually covering over the scars that it had borne. The White City, too, was looking decidedly better than when they had left, and already the dwarves were seeing to replacing the main gate. 

A riding of Elves that included Aragorn’s betrothed, had passed through Edoras on their way here, and it pleased them to see Aragorn standing happily next to his bride as he greeted them. He was a good man, who had sacrificed much for others. He deserved to know such joy.

The Rohirrim remained at Minas Tirith for a few days before the return trip. Those days were filled with making preparations for more of their wounded soldiers to return home with them. When they had departed in May, quite a few were not yet well enough or able to travel, but now they could do so. Extra horses and wagons had been brought to transport them.

On this visit, because there were so many of the Eldar visiting, Imrahil had again opened his house to the Rohirrim. It would not have been Eomer’s first choice, but Theodred had accepted for them, so there was little he could do about it. His king required him at his side, again serving as the public face of Rohan.

Lothiriel had greeted them warmly, looking as lovely as Eomer remembered, and he was irritated to note the attraction he felt was just as strong. And, as before, she efficiently ordered her father’s household – all was in readiness for their arrival, and they were quickly shown to rooms. At the feast that night to welcome them, it was good to see so many friends again, and the press of such a large crowd made it easier to avoid time in the lady’s company. Even so, when Gimli came to challenge Eomer regarding the Lady Galadriel, and he uttered his preference for the darker beauty of one such as Queen Arwen, his eyes almost betrayed him. Involuntarily, they flicked to where Lothiriel stood talking with Imrahil and Aragorn.

The queen was beautiful; he could not deny that. But the less delicate beauty of the mortal woman lured him more than did the Elf’s. He almost wondered how Aragorn could bring himself to approach someone so ethereal and magnificent as Arwen. Lothiriel, on the other hand, was equally attractive, but also very real. Once Gimli had accepted his preference, without deeming it a slight to Galadriel, Eomer allowed himself to be drawn after the dwarf to seal their treaty with a mug of ale. Best not to gaze or dwell upon Imrahil’s daughter.

The second day of their stay, Faramir came to meet with Theodred and inform him of the decision made by Gondor’s council. “King Elessar presented your needs to them, and though a few wished to keep a tight rein on the City’s purse, the king made it plain that every possible assistance was to be extended to the Rohirrim. I should have a load of supplies ready to travel with us when we depart, and I will send more when I return after the funeral.”

“That is excellent news, Faramir. I thank you – and the king – for your generosity,” Theodred answered, a slight strain to his voice.

Able to read the man’s discomfort, Faramir assured him, “It is not generosity so much as gratitude, my lord. We owe Rohan a great deal and this is only a tiny effort at repayment. Come, we are friends now. Let us talk no more of generosity. Friends share what they have.” 

He offered his arm to Theodred, who took it in a firm clasp. “Well spoken, my friend. I will try to view the matter from that standpoint,” Theodred replied warmly.

xxxxx

The first night on the road back home, a new difficulty presented itself. They had planned for virtually everything, save one – while the injured men were mostly healed and able to travel, a few still had problems that needed addressing. Some wounds still required attention and aid given the men for doing everyday tasks. Surprisingly, Lothiriel came forward. It was learned she had spent some time in the Healing Houses of Dol Amroth during the war, and knew something of administering medicines and changing bandages. With minimal supervision from Aragorn himself, and the help of a few male servants to aid with certain private matters, they quickly had the situation in hand. For the remainder of the trip, the lady occupied her evenings checking over the patients and seeing them settled in for the night. There was no doubt in Eomer’s mind that she would make a wonderful queen for Rohan, discouraging though that thought was to him personally.

Eomer found his mood to be dismal for most of the journey, and while he could attribute some of it to the death of Theoden, he knew that was not entirely at fault. In the moments when he had allowed himself to think ahead, beyond the war, and dared hope they would survive, he had expected to find a good woman to make his wife. What he had not expected was to become so smitten with a woman that was not only unattainable, but likely would end up at Theodred’s side. He was almost tempted to move to Gondor and live near to Eowyn, if only to avoid seeing Lothiriel so regularly as he likely would in Rohan. He could not begrudge his cousin marrying such a fine woman, but it would be far easier to wish them well were it not for his own personal inclinations in the matter.

At long last, they turned off the main road to enter Edoras, the way lined with Theoden’s people wanting to pay homage as his body passed. It was a solemn procession that rode into the town.

People had been arriving at Edoras for several days, both before the funeral cortege returned and after. Many of those who came from Rohan were able to house themselves at the homes of relatives or friends, freeing up the guest quarters of Meduseld for visitors from the south. Even so, space was difficult to come by.

Eomer was a little surprised that Erkenbrand brought his entire family, including Retaleoth, his eldest daughter. Retaleoth had been married to a Rider who served under Theodred, and they had a daughter who was now five years of age. Her husband had been killed shortly after the child was born, never even getting the chance to lay eyes on his daughter. Now, Retaleoth and her daughter lived with Erkenbrand at the Hornburg, helping her mother keep things in order. She rarely left the Deep, but she was here now, with little Tilleoth beside her.

He did not know either of them very well, having only a passing acquaintance. Theodred, whose base of operation had been the Deep, was quite familiar with the entire family, and went to greet them warmly. Eowyn and Faramir were enjoying a happy reunion, and the guests were being guided to the rooms they would occupy. Activity swirled around him, leaving Eomer feeling like an island in a stream. He alone seemed purposeless at this moment, and without anyone special to greet. Restraining a sigh, he moved to his quarters to discard his armor, determined not to let anyone see what he was feeling.

xxx

Eomer wasn’t sure how Eowyn had managed it the past few days, seeing to all the guests amid her own grief. Possibly Faramir’s presence had helped, but he was certain he could not have done so well if he were in her shoes. He watched now in silence as she sang a song of farewell to Theoden, her voice only faltering once. But he saw the look in her eyes and knew what she was feeling. He felt the same about this man who had been as a father to them for so many years. Next to him, Theodred leaned ever so slightly, pressing his arm against Eomer’s, and he knew the motion was intentional. The contact somehow helped them maintain their outward composure regardless of the emotions roiling inside them.

At length, it was finished, and the funeral party began the slow silent trek back up to Meduseld. Once there, it was necessary for Eomer and Eowyn to sit on either side of Theodred as they received condolences from their guests. At least in that, Eomer could somewhat hide his feelings. He had spent long years concealing his thoughts from enemies, and it now stood him in good stead.

Imrahil’s family approached, and Eomer carefully kept his gaze impassively on the crowd just beyond them. When at last they were speaking directly to him, however, it was necessary to acknowledge them. Bringing his eyes into focus, they fell upon Lothiriel, and he was not prepared for the wealth of compassion he saw in her gaze. It almost seemed as if she was attempting to impart some of her strength to him just through a look, and it nearly took his breath away. Quickly he shifted his eyes to look at her father, unable to maintain that almost intimate moment. Even so, he heard her murmur low, “My sincerest condolences, my lord. Eowyn has told me how much Theoden King meant to the both of you.” 

It was almost his undoing. He had a nearly overwhelming urge to wrap her in his arms, and weep out his grief upon her soft, gentle shoulder. His jaw tightened as he reined in the thought, and thankfully she moved on, leaving Elphir standing before him. It gave him a moment to regain his composure, and he hoped no one had noticed what had passed between them.

As the evening wore on, it became somewhat easier. A few tankards of ale had helped relax him, and a full stomach didn’t hurt. When the Eorlingas began moving from sorrow to revelry, celebrating Theoden’s life in song and dance, his tension further dissipated. Good thing, too, as he would eventually need to get up and announce Eowyn’s trothplighting to Faramir. 

That had been a few hours ago. Now, glancing around, he could not see where Theodred had gotten to. He had been talking to Erkenbrand last Eomer saw, and the two of them must have wandered away. Well, he couldn’t do anything until the king returned. First they needed to acknowledge Theodred in his new office before Eomer’s part would come.

Almost in answer to his thoughts, Eomer spotted Theodred approaching from the direction of his father’s…from _his_ study. Leave it to his cousin to conduct business at such a time as this. As he watched the two men, Erkenbrand’s daughter, Retaleoth, drew near, with almost a questioning look on her face. In response, Theodred gave her a slight nod, but what struck Eomer most was the look on his king’s face. He could not recall when last he had seen Theodred looking so…at peace. Surely that could not be due to Erkenbrand agreeing to be Marshal of the West-mark. But if not that, then what?

Theodred had separated himself and moved to the throne, signaling to Eowyn that it was time. Bearing a filled cup, she brought it to Theodred. Then a minstrel and loremaster stood up to name all the kings of the Mark in their order, from Eorl the Young down to Theoden. When Theoden was named, Theodred drained the cup, and Eowyn bade the servants to fill the cups. Then all who were assembled rose and drank to the new king, crying, ‘Hail, Theodred, King of the Mark!’

All his life, Eomer had known this day would eventually come, and still he did not feel ready for it. Theodred had always just been his cousin, no one special beyond that. Now looking at him, Eomer thought he could detect a regalness in his bearing. Had it always been there and he simply had not noticed, or was this something new? Little matter, either way. Theodred was king, his king.

A slight gesture from his cousin broke his reverie – the sign for him to come forward. The feast was now ended, but they would have it end on a pleasant note. Moving to stand beside Theodred, Eomer said loudly, “Now this is the funeral feast of Théoden the King; but I will speak ere we go of tidings of joy, for he would not grudge that I should do so, since he was ever a father of Éowyn my sister. Hear then all our guests, fair folk of many realms, such as have never before been gathered in this hall! Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and Prince of Ithilien, asks that Éowyn Lady of Rohan should be his wife, and she grants it full willing. Therefore they shall be trothplighted before you all.”

There was much cheering and celebrating at this news, as Faramir and Eowyn stood before the hall, hand in hand. After some time, as the crowd began to quiet again, getting ready to make for their homes, Theodred rose. All eyes turned to their new king, eager to hear what more he would say to them on this occasion, but it was not what any expected.

“My friends, my people,” he began, smiling around the room to include everyone, “this day brings me much sorrow and much joy. It does me good to know that my father died with great honor, as our many friends here to farewell him do attest. And I very much wish that he could be here to see Eowyn find this joy, for he ever wished such a thing for her.” He smiled warmly at his cousin, causing her cheeks to pink slightly.

Continuing, he drew a deep breath to add, “But it would give him even greater joy to know that at long last the Riddermark will again have a queen.” There was a stunned silence, along with a few gasps of shock. Extending his hand, he gestured for Retaleoth to join him, and she shyly moved to do so. Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he announced, “Here is Retaleoth, daughter of Erkenbrand, newly made Marshal of the West-mark. I have asked her to accept my courtship, and she has agreed. What say you to this?”

Instantly, there was an eruption of noise as cheers broke forth. “Hail Retaleoth, queen of the Mark!” sounded most frequently amid the confusion, and Theodred looked pleased, while Retaleoth seemed somewhat relieved. 

As for Eomer, he was stunned into silence. Retaleoth? He had never guessed, and Theodred had not spoken a word suggesting he favored Erkenbrand’s eldest. It made perfect sense though. Theodred had spent much time at the Hornburg, sharing Erkenbrand’s hospitality. He would have had ample opportunity to come to know the lady quite well. Looking back, Eomer now recalled her presence at Theodred’s side, tending his injuries at the Deep. Involuntarily, Eomer’s eyes sought out Lothiriel in the crowd. It took several moments to locate her, standing with Amrothos and smiling warmly toward the happy couple. Now he understood why Theodred had shown so little interest in pursuing the lady of Dol Amroth. Had she known of his intentions? Eomer almost thought if he had confided them to anyone, it might have been her.

But did it change anything? He still was what he was – a soldier. In the Mark, he was a nobleman, to be sure, but that did not mean the same thing here as it did in Gondor. Even with Theodred not pursuing the lady, that did not mean that Eomer could do so in his stead. He took another long swallow of ale. Tonight was a night of joy for several people, but he was not one of them. 

The guests were slowly drifting out, and Eomer seized the opportunity to slip away to his bed. This had been a difficult day in many ways, and sleep would be most welcome. 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> 
> 
> Footnote: At Edoras, some of the dialogue for the acceptance of Theodred as king and Eomer performing the trothplighting of Eowyn to Faramir is actual or paraphrased directly from Tolkien.


	5. Chapter 5

“What is this?” Eomer asked, arching his eyebrow pointedly as he sat down to breakfast the next morning. He and Theodred were the only ones to be up so early, so they had the small dining chamber to themselves.

Theodred grinned. “You refer to my choice of wife?”

“Of course. You have never said a word indicating you favored her – not in all these years since her husband’s death,” Eomer replied, not entirely able to disguise feeling hurt that his cousin had not confided in him.

Theodred’s expression had sobered. “I did not dare, Eomer. It was not that I did not trust you, or want to share my joy, but you know what it was like. I lived in dread that Grima might learn of it and harm would come to her or Tilleoth. Likely the attempt on my life would have come much sooner had Saruman and the Worm thought there was any chance that I might sire an heir to stand in my stead. I did not dare, my brother! One tiny slip of the tongue in the most innocent of ways and all might be lost. And, so, I have kept it all to myself. Only Retaleoth and I knew of our growing affection, though I am sure Eanswith guessed. But, as you know, she is circumspect, and she would not speak of that which we did not.” 

Theodred’s eyes pleaded with Eomer to understand his position, and with no hesitation it was given. “You are right, and I would have done the same if I were you. None were safe from the evil in our very house, and you were most wise to protect her as you did. I did not need to know, but I should _like_ to have shared in your happiness. I suppose I shall just have to be all the more pleased now, to make up for lost time!” He gave a grin, and Theodred knew he was truly forgiven.

The servants had brought food and they smilingly began to dish up their plates, not speaking, until Eomer’s brow knit with a sudden thought. “Hold it! That is all well and fine, cousin, but Saruman and Grima have been gone from Edoras since March, the War was won then also, and I saw you again in May! So why exactly is it that you did not tell me this before announcing it in August?” He gave Theodred a mock glare, eliciting a sheepish look from the young king.

“All right! It did not entirely have to do with keeping her safe, or wondering if she would accept me, either – before you ask. I just…” He shrugged, then snickered wickedly. “Truth is, I just rather enjoyed putting one over on you, Eomer! You are far too clever and difficult to deceive. I liked knowing something that you had not yet discovered!”

“If you were not my king, I would thrash you soundly!” Eomer growled threateningly, though his laughing eyes belied his words. Then he straightened and gave Theodred a benign smile that immediately put the other man on his guard. 

“What?” he asked cautiously.

“I was just thinking – obviously our king needs much looking after, and cannot be entirely trusted. I fear I must dog his steps at every turn to keep him out of mischief…particularly during the time prior to his wedding…”

Theodred’s eyes went wide. “You would not dare! Not if you value your neck! We have had little more than stolen moments for over two years, and I do not intend to let you deprive me of enjoying our relationship now that it is known by all! Get in my way, pup, and it is I who will do the thrashing! Do not come between a man and his betrothed!”

After just a couple of moments, they both burst into laughter prior to returning their attention to the meal in front of them. Before they finished, Imrahil and his eldest son joined them. Theodred’s unexpected announcement the previous day was on everyone’s mind still, and the Prince chuckled, “I am very pleased for you, my friend, though I get the distinct impression this is astonishing news to your kinsmen!”

Theodred grinned at the older man. During the time staying in Imrahil’s home at Minas Tirith, he had become very comfortable with the family, and Imrahil had proven a willing and sage counselor as he undertook his new kingship. Some of the changes he had in mind to implement in the Mark were born of suggestions the Prince had made in the course of their many conversations during and after meals. “True, but at least they are pleasantly surprised. And my deception likely will be forgiven once an heir is in evidence!”

Imrahil laughed and nodded. “That is certain. There is nothing quite like an heir to keep the populace content.” He buttered some bread and then took a bite.

“I was wondering,” Theodred replied, leaning forward and changing course, “if perhaps you and your family would like to remain a while longer, though most of our guests will soon be returning to their homes. I would welcome your further counsel, particularly now that you can see things for yourself, but I would particularly hope to have the honor of repaying the hospitality you have shown me and my cousin.”

The Prince considered this and then nodded. “I believe that can be arranged. I know Faramir wishes to linger longer, and I would like to see more of your land and how things are done here. Too long have our countries been distanced from one another, by more than just mountains and streams.” He glanced at his son, asking, “Will you want to remain, or shall you return to Alcathir as soon as possible?”

“I shall depart with the others,” Elphir acknowledged. “I do not like to leave her alone too long, and probably one of us should go back to oversee getting Dol Amroth put in order.”

“When is your wife due?” Theodred asked, pushing his plate away to make room so he could lean on the table.

“Not for another three months, but she has suffered some sickness. It mostly encumbered her in the early months, but she still does not feel well some days. And our three-year-old son can be a handful. His nurse is a great help to Alcathir, but she very much prefers to raise her own children,” Elphir explained.

Theodred raised a surprised eyebrow. “Indeed. I had thought it was more common in Gondor to turn the children over to nurses and tutors for rearing.”

Elphir smiled ruefully. “It is, but Alcathir does not hold with that and has very concertedly fought the naysayers. Perhaps my independent sister has influenced her rebellious streak!”

“Do not blame me!” Lothiriel interjected, joining them just then with Arwen and Aragorn accompanying her. “Alcathir has a good mind. She came to that decision entirely of her own accord, though I did nothing to dissuade her, I confess!”

Arwen’s laughter rang out. “I am pleased to know that I will not be the only _unusual_ woman in Gondor! I am sure Gondorian society is going to consider my Elvish ways quite strange.”

“Do not let them intimidate you,” Lothiriel advised, taking a seat next to her father. “They will fuss and bother about every little thing you do, but when they see you are not cowed, they will take to emulating your actions!”

“And Lothiriel would well know!” Elphir snickered. “She has been setting Dol Amroth on its ear for some time. I do believe Minas Tirith blanches whenever our ship pulls in with her aboard.”

Eomer listened to the byplay in silence, not wanting to be drawn into the conversation. Much as he might like to believe such liberal ideas would extend to marriage, he could not persuade himself it was so. Rising, he excused himself from the gathering and began his day.

Eowyn was in the main hall, overseeing breakfast for the soldiers, and Retaleoth was with her. Since he had not had an opportunity the previous night, Eomer approached them and offered his congratulations to Theodred’s betrothed. 

“Retaleoth and Tilleoth will remain at Meduseld with us through the winter so I can show her how Meduseld is run,” Eowyn explained, smiling at the older woman. Clearly the two were getting on well.

“When do your parents return home?” Eomer asked, pulling on his gloves.

“They are leaving tomorrow morning,” Retaleoth answered, looking somewhat nervous. 

Smiling reassuringly at her, Eomer said, “Well, I am sure Eowyn will enjoy your company. She has been forced to live in the midst of mostly men for far too long.”

Eowyn wrinkled her nose at him, and linked arms with Retaleoth. “I am _mostly_ grateful for someone to help me keep you lot in line! I do not envy poor Retaleoth having to deal with you on her own after I am gone. Though, I suppose, she has faced something similar at the Hornburg. That place is overrun with men also!”

Laughing, Eomer moved away, telling them, “I wish you luck. Soldiers are not easily civilized, but then a woman is good inducement to change. I will see you both later.”

Out on Meduseld’s front terrace, Eomer surveyed the town spread below him, lost in thought. Perhaps he could accompany Erkenbrand back to Helm’s Deep and spend some time there – at least enough for Imrahil’s clan to depart. There was yet much that needed doing and assessing in the West-mark, and they still had to determine what repairs were required to the Deep itself. Gimli had mentioned bringing some dwarves to help in restoring the Deeping Wall that had been damaged by Saruman’s troops. With a sigh, he moved down the stairs to go and check on those encamped outside the city. Certainly there was enough work to keep him busy, though whether his thoughts could stay equally occupied and off a particular lady was less assured.

xxx

By the time Eomer returned to the Golden Hall for his midday meal, some decisions had been made. Since Aragorn, the Elves and the remainder of the Fellowship were to leave on the fourteenth of the month, stopping at Helm’s Deep, Erkenbrand had decided to delay and travel with them, thus partially thwarting Eomer’s plans.

Under normal circumstances, Theodred and Retaleoth would have been married within a sennight. But, with winter not far off and the Mark so decimated, Theodred did not want to be distracted from either his duty or his bride. Hard as it was, he preferred postponing the wedding until he could afford to spare some time to focus solely on his new wife. It had been decided that they would wed shortly before Eowyn’s wedding party set out for Gondor. That would allow those wishing to make that journey to travel with them, and give Theodred time away from Edoras to spend with Retaleoth.

All seemed to be falling neatly into place for everyone in the king’s household but Eomer. He saw no way to improve his situation, and all the talk of wedding plans and honeymoons were nearly intolerable to hear. He could have wished Theodred would send him on errands far from the Golden Hall just now, but his cousin seemed frustratingly oblivious to Eomer’s unrest. Thinking perhaps he could take this time of inactivity to visit his home in Aldburg, and see what might need doing there, he cleared that with Theodred only to have Eowyn suggest that she, Faramir, Lothiriel and others interested join him for the outing.

The party set out the next day. Any other time, riding through his beloved homeland, with blue sky above and summer flowers in abundance, Eomer’s heart would have been full. Now, instead, he was all too conscious of those who rode around him. Only Faramir and Lothiriel had accepted the invitation, and Eomer was not comfortable that it seemed to pair him with the lady. Though Lothiriel had been keeping a more circumspect distance lately, it did not make him any less keenly aware of her. At any given moment, he seemed to know exactly where she was, and no effort on his part could prevent it. He supposed that was partly the result of his soldierly instincts, but they were not standing him in good stead at present. Just now, he wanted only to shut her out of his mind, and more especially out of his heart.

“It is about a half day’s ride to Aldburg?” Faramir had drawn in alongside him and posed the question. Eowyn had been showering the two Gondorians with information about their home at Aldburg, and the housekeeper who had long been a part of their lives. It seemed she had finally run out of tales about their childhood to tell their guests, and the three were determined to draw him into their conversation.

Eomer nodded. “Yes. Originally it was the seat of the House of Eorl, but then Brego built Meduseld and the throne moved there in 2569. Brego’s third son, Eofor, was an ancestor of my father, and I inherited our home through him.” Best to keep their discussion on safe ground – nothing so personal as what Eowyn was telling them.

“Though you have not seen much of it in the past few years,” interjected Eowyn as she joined them, Lothiriel beside her. “I think I have almost forgotten what the place looks like, it has been so long. I am glad you will make it your home now. Despite everything, I loved it there.”

Eomer shrugged. “From the sound of it, my presence there will only increase slightly. For the time being, Theodred seems to have much he wishes me to do. I am not opposed to spending time riding across the Mark – certainly it will be in happier circumstances than before. But I do not relish all that I will see as we try to restore our people to an acceptable way of life. Already I have seen much hunger and deprivation. They suffer cruelly.”

Faramir reached over to catch Eomer by the shoulder. “Do not despair. King Elessar and I have already approached his council. We will not leave the Rohirrim in need so long as it is within our power to help. Even now, I have people working on gathering supplies to send, in addition to what we brought with us. The first load should arrive within a fortnight of my return. Your great task now will be to see that it gets where it will do the most good.”

“We are sending food and clothing,” Lothiriel observed, “but what of shelter? I cannot think many homes were left standing undamaged. From all that I have heard, Saruman was quite determined to eradicate the Rohirrim.”

Eomer blinked in surprise, both at her knowledge of their condition and astute observation. “That is true. We are looking to gather people in outlying areas closer to the larger villages. We are repairing what we can of the damaged buildings, and trying to throw up some sort of solid shelter that will see them through the winter. Once spring is come, they can consider returning to their homes to rebuild and replant.”

“I should think that would be safer for them also,” Faramir added. “Not all the orcs have been despatched, and without a master to guide them, their desperation will likely cause them to prey on the easiest victims they can find for sustenance. It will be like wolves picking off sheep at the edge of the herd.”

“True,” Eowyn acknowledged, “but the eoreds will be scattered around the Mark to provide protection and help. If the orcs think they will find easy prey among the Eorlingas, they are mistaken!”

Her fervor brought a smile to Faramir’s lips. “If the other women of the Mark are even half so valiant as you, my love, I almost pity the orcs!”

The remark was quite teasing, and Eomer rather expected a sharp retort from his sister, but instead her cheeks pinked and a pleased grin tugged at her mouth. Much as he envied Eowyn’s happiness, he was also very gratified to see Faramir’s high regard for her be so evident, and unhesitatingly expressed.

That was well worth his envy. A man was not meant to be alone so long as he had been. He just had not anticipated loving a woman he could not have. His jaw tightened as he kept his gaze fixed ahead, refusing to allow his eyes to stray in Lothiriel’s direction.

“You know…” Lothiriel mused aloud, then pressed on, “I have seen homes in the land around Dol Amroth that were built from sod. Eowyn indicated that timber is in short supply. Perhaps that would be a way to erect dwellings without much wood being needed.”

Before Eomer could respond, Eowyn spoke up. “Some have used that here also, and you are right that it may be the best thing for the present. What wood there is will be needed for other things. Plus, we already harvest peat for burning as fuel, so our people are not unaware of the practice. Certainly we do not lack for dirt in the Mark!”

By now, their destination was in view, and as they rode in through the city gates of Aldburg, Eomer could not help being surprised anew at Lothiriel’s easy acceptance of the ways of the Mark. Some of the visitors from Gondor had wrinkled their noses a time or two at what they beheld, only barely concealing their contempt. He had been to Gondor, and seen how they lived, and part of him could understand that they found it very different here. But that did not mean there was nothing of value in Rohan. In some ways, the manner in which they lived was a reflection of who they were as a people – basic, steady and useful.

His home had changed little since last he saw it, several months ago. But now, he was seeing it with new eyes. How did it appear to the Gondorians? It was not so grandiose a place as their homes, but looking at it, his heart swelled with pride. Let them think whatever they pleased – he was proud of his home and his land, and he had no desire to live anywhere else.

Several of the household servants had gathered on the front lawn to greet their party, and he smiled warmly at them but particularly at Betersel, the longtime housekeeper here. She had begun keeping the house while his parents were still alive, and continued on during the years he and Eowyn were living with their uncle after their parents died. Later, when he returned home as lord of the manor and began to direct his eoreds from this location, he had seen no reason to displace her.

“My Lord, my Lady! Welcome home,” she greeted them.

Not having seen her in more than a year, Eowyn dispensed with formality and hastened forward to clasp the older woman in an ardent embrace. “Betersel! It is so good to see you again!” she exclaimed. As she finally stepped back, she eagerly turned toward Faramir and said, “Come, I would have you meet my betrothed, Faramir of Gondor.”

Betersel’s mouth pursed thoughtfully as she eyed the man standing before her, and Eomer bit back a grin. If Faramir could pass _her_ muster, then certainly he was welcome to join their family!

Seeming to sense this might be his most difficult test, Faramir offered the woman a short bow and told her sincerely, “My very great pleasure to meet you, Betersel. Eowyn has told me much of you on our ride here from Edoras.”

The woman’s mouth twitched slightly, and Eomer knew she was defeated. A moment later she gave their guest a curt nod. “Welcome, my lord.” 

It was not effusive, but Eomer knew it to be near to gushing for her. She took a while to warm to outsiders, but she had clearly taken Faramir’s measure and found him acceptable. As Lothiriel stepped up beside her cousin and was also introduced by Eowyn, Eomer found himself holding his breath. Without a betrothal to entice her good favor, what would Betersel think of this woman? Even if there would never be anything between them, Eomer could not help hoping Betersel would approve of her.

Betersel’s eyes flicked around the group and landed on Eomer, impassively watching the proceedings, before giving response. “A pleasure, my lady. Welcome to Aldburg.” Her eyes crinkled with friendliness and Eomer let out the breath he had been checking.

Before he could move to dismount, Betersel turned to him once more. “Will you be staying the night, or longer, my Lord?”

“Just the one night,” he answered, swinging his leg over Firefoot as a boy hurried forward to claim his horse. He gave the stallion a pat on the neck as the lad led him away, followed by others attending the horses ridden by his companions.

Betersel gave him a teasing scowl. “If you do not come around home more often, I am apt to start treating you like a guest!”

He let out a throaty laugh. He could always count on her to keep him in his place. Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he pressed a kiss to her hair. “And you would, too, I am sure! Do not ever change, Betersel. It would not be home without you here to fuss at me.”

They led the way inside as Eowyn trailed behind giving their company an introduction to the house and property. Once they were in the cool entrance hall, Betersel gave a curtsy, telling them, “I shall have a dinner laid shortly, my lord.” She gestured to a girl standing at the ready nearby and added, “Eadgif will show your guests to rooms.” She quickly gave instructions to the girl and a few other servants who scurried away at her bidding.

While Eowyn and the Gondorians went to get settled in their rooms, Eomer moved toward his study. Closing the door behind him, he looked around the room. It had been more than six months since last he was here. Much had changed in that time, largely for the better. And, yet, being here was bittersweet. He wanted to have the freedom to be showing his home to Lothiriel as his betrothed; he wanted to be able to enjoy her approbation and see the regard for her in the eyes of his staff. Wearily he rubbed a hand over his face. Was this never to end? Was he to be forever thinking of this woman and desiring her? He certainly hoped not. Imrahil had mentioned remaining another fortnight, and he fervently looked forward to the date of their departure. Would that he could expect to rid his senses of her so quickly.

It did not help that he noticed more than once Betersel was eyeing both him and Lothiriel with a speculative look in her gaze. Perhaps she sensed his attraction to the woman, or maybe she just liked the young woman and wanted to match him up with a prospective bride. It was all the more reason for him to maintain an aloof distance from Lothiriel so as not to incite anticipation of something that would not happen.

Eomer managed to keep himself occupied all afternoon meeting with his steward and others to discuss the circumstances at Aldburg. All in all, the smaller city had fared better than others, being more fortified and tucked away against the mountains. Quite a few of the refugees from outlying villages in the Eastfold had swelled its population for a while, but since the War’s end, they were slowly trickling back to their homes. Eoreds from the Eastfold kept up steady patrols around the perimeter to watch for stray bands of orcs that might yet cause problems for them, and they were making progress in securing their lands.

Eomer might have been able to sequester himself away for the duration of the visit, except that Eowyn would not allow it. She was not persuaded that he had that much business to which he must attend so as to leave his guests to their own devices. Consequently, there was no avoiding sharing a meal with the others. Eowyn had spent the day walking about the town with the Gondorians, telling them of their life there when they were younger and visits since then. It had raised all sorts of questions in the minds of the cousins, and they had chosen to pepper him with queries over the evening meal and afterwards. It would have been rude to offer an excuse and slip away, so he had remained, keeping his answers as impersonal as possible under the circumstances. Though Eowyn gave him a couple of curious looks at his reticent manner, she did not say anything, for which he was grateful.

He was relieved when they finally were mounting their horses for the return trip to Edoras the next morning. Preparing to depart had occupied everyone’s attention before, during and after the meal and he was able to avoid much conversation. At the last moment, however, Eowyn had returned to the house for something she had forgotten, and while they waited, Lothiriel moved her mare in closer to Firefoot, saying, “I have enjoyed seeing your home, my lord. It is very comfortable considering its royal history. I hope you are able to spend more time here now that the War is ended.”

Eomer shrugged noncommittally. “Eventually I probably will, after the Mark is more recovered.” He looked at the building before him for several long moments before adding, “But I will make a greater effort to come here more often, if only briefly.”

“And raise some horses?” she asked with a smile.

He was startled that she remembered their conversation from months before, but then such an occupation was hardly unusual for the people of Rohan so that likely helped. “Yes, raise some horses. Eventually.”

“It…” Lothiriel started to say something, but then thought better of it and fell silent.

“What were you going to say?” Eomer asked, unable to restrain his curiosity.

“Nothing. It is of no consequence,” she said, resisting further explanation.

“Please,” he persisted, though a prickling sensation on his neck warned him to drop the subject.

“I was just going to say that this would also be a good home in which to raise children. Meduseld is a fine place, but castles can be stifling to children, with all their demands for proper behavior.” 

She avoided looking at him as she spoke, and Eomer flushed slightly at her words. He should have heeded the warning and kept silent! Discussing the raising of children in his home was definitely not a subject to be discussed with Lothiriel, much as it interested him to do so.

Fortunately, Eowyn returned then and they were able to depart. For the trip back to Edoras, Eowyn insisted upon a couple of detours to show Faramir some of her favorite spots, and despite it meaning he had to remain longer in Lothiriel’s company, Eomer yielded to her. Too soon his sister would be gone to live in Gondor, and it was unlikely they would get to see much of each other then. He had enjoyed these past few months of seeing her recovered and happy. In that, she seemed to symbolize the whole of the Riddermark to him – this was part of what he had been fighting so long and hard to achieve.

Once they had returned to the Golden Hall, Eomer was able to make good his escape, citing the need to better assess the damage to the Deep so he could discuss with Gimli what was required. It was because of the friendship that had sprung up between Eomer and Gimli, that Theodred had readily agreed to Legolas and Gimli exploring both the Glittering Caves and Fangorn Forest.

After all had drunk the stirrup-cup, the host regretfully departed on their way. Their first stop was at Helm’s Deep, where they rested two days. That gave Legolas and Gimli their opportunity to slip into the caves, and Eomer made use of the time to examine the damage to the battlements and determine needed repairs in company with Erkenbrand. By the time the pair resurfaced, they had outlined their need, and before moving on to Isengard with the party, Gimli assured them he would send for dwarves to come and start repairs. 

Watching their guests depart, Erkenbrand chuckled and remarked to Eomer, “Did you ever think we would see such a day as this? A party of Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits and Men, as well as one old wizard! For so long, we have been separated from our neighbors, through distance, mistrust or enmity, and now we have hosted them all and may expect a group of Dwarves to aid in rebuilding our fortress. These are strange times, indeed!”

Eomer grinned and gave a nod. “Aye! But they are good times, I think. And we have made many good friends these past few months. At last we may look to the future without fear, and that is not at all a bad thing.”

Their eyes met but they said nothing further, perfectly understanding each other. As one, they turned back to the work they wished to get done before Aragorn’s return. Since Arwen had remained at Meduseld, Aragorn was to go back and fetch her on his way home to Gondor, and Eomer had agreed to travel back to Edoras with him after the king had parted ways with his companions.

Aragorn’s return coincided with the departure of Imrahil and the remainder of their visitors from the south. Eowyn was not given to tears, but Eomer could tell she was choked with emotion over her farewell with Faramir. He could sympathize with their pain, but it was unavoidable that they must wait a while before they married. Both Gondor and Rohan had much rebuilding to do, and each was needed in their respective homeland for the time being. 

Faramir had told Eomer that he intended to renovate his family’s home in Ithilien for use as their main homestead, when he was not needed by the king to be in the City. “I think she will like it better there than inside the great stone walls of Minas Tirith,” he confided, and Eomer could not argue that point. It was amusing to see the almost boyish look the man’s face wore whenever he spoke of Eowyn and their life together, but it reassured Eomer all the more that Eowyn had chosen well and he was right to approve the match.

Even as they were getting everyone mounted and ready, Imrahil and Theodred were still discussing matters of state, until Aragorn coughed pointedly to get their attention. With a grin, he suggested, “Do you suppose you could put the remainder in a letter. We should get underway before nightfall…”

For just an instant, both men stared blankly at him, and then they sheepishly laughed and bid one another farewell, ending their conversation of politics. Erchirion and Lothiriel moved over beside Eomer, and Erchirion remarked, “Just like Father! He truly does enjoy all the business of being a Prince. As for me, well, I am glad Elphir is the heir and not me!”

Lothiriel smiled teasingly and told him, “Only because the work of running a country would interfere with you spending all your time on your boat, and lazing about on the beaches of every island in the vicinity!”

Amrothos joined them then, remarking, “I thought that _was_ work! Erchirion always assured me it was!”

Eomer chuckled at his two friends and then they nodded a farewell, giving a brief embrace. “We will see you in the spring, then, Eomer? At Eowyn’s wedding?” Amrothos clarified.

“Of course! At least, I will be there. From the sound of it, I am not sure I can count on the two of you to make an appearance!”

“They will be there,” Lothiriel interjected. “Even if I must drag them to the City by their ears! Faramir must have his family about him for such an occasion, and we are all that is left.”

Both her brothers had blanched at her threat, leading Eomer to suspect she had made good on it in the past, though he did not inquire into the particulars. More formally, he gave a short bow to the lady. “Lady Lothiriel, we have been honored to have you with us. I hope your visit has been pleasant – as much as may be under the circumstances.”

There was something in her gaze as she looked at him that made him slightly uneasy, but after only a moment she gave him a pleasant smile and nodded. “It has been and I thank you for the outing to Aldburg. We will see you in the spring, my lord.”

A slow, silent sigh of relief escaped as all finally mounted and began the exodus home. He had survived this encounter. With any luck, in a few months he would have better control of himself and such meetings would not be so difficult. Lothiriel of Dol Amroth would just be a very pleasant memory.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6** (early September, 3019 III)

Theodred leaned back in his chair and cast a rueful grin at his cousin. “I thought I would be relieved when all the guests were gone and there was less noise and confusion. But I am finding it difficult to adjust to the quiet!”

Eomer returned the smile and leaned onto the table, pushing his plate away. They had finished their morning meal, and were ready to counsel together. Eowyn and Retaleoth had just departed to press forward on their plans for the day. “Difficult, perhaps, but I am willing to make the effort!”

Theodred chuckled as he mimicked Eomer’s motion, shoving the plate aside to clear some table space between them. Becoming serious, he asked, “Very well, then, where do we stand?” After all the years they had spent working together in protecting the Riddermark, they did not require much conversation to get to the heart of the most important matters.

“Gimli agrees with our assessment of the damage at the Hornburg, and he tells me he can likely have Dwarves there to assist us within a month. As soon as he and Legolas finish their visit to Fangorn, they will go to seek workers from among his kinsmen to meet our needs.”

“Good,” Theodred interjected. “Perhaps we shall never see a need for it again as a fortress, but I should like to have it ready all the same. Certainly we did not _expect_ this last battle that nearly was our undoing.”

Eomer nodded, and then continued, “Erkenbrand has made quite a bit of progress on other repairs, and the refugees have agreed to remain through the winter. The supplies we brought with us from Gondor are a good start toward providing for them, but more will be needed.

“The temporary settlements we made in Westfold and south of the Entwash in Eastfold are being fortified, and additional houses added. We are throwing up more enclosures for the animals. A few of the hardier folk from the Wold wish to return despite our warnings – shall we restrain them?”

After several moments consideration, Theodred shook his head. “They know all too well the dangers. If they wish to chance it, I will not stop them. Remind them to stay alert, though. The orcs and other spawn of Mordor are not entirely gone. And they are likely to be more desperate now that the tide has overtaken them. Have half an eored go out and check on them occasionally – monthly if possible. We do not want to forget about them despite what they risk.”

Eomer nodded again and leaned back. “I already have set two eoreds to patrol on the northern side of the Entwash, roughly on a line from Fangorn to the Emyn Muil. That will give us a line of protection for the few villages that remain on the northern bank, and keep any stray orcs from crossing to the more populated areas southward.

“Faramir said more supplies would be coming as soon as he returns to the City, with more to follow a few weeks later. I think the first shipment should go to Erkenbrand, to use at the Deep or in assisting the villages that have survived in Westfold. The one after that will be deployed in Eastfold, and I will send supplies north to those in Eastemnet and returning to the Wold. If more comes, we can consider where it is yet needed. And, we may end up needing to keep some of it in Edoras. Our people struggle here as well, with crops destroyed and timber scarce.”

A sigh escaped as Theodred rubbed his face and closed his eyes. “So much. It is almost more overwhelming than was the enemy we fought.”

“We will have victory in this also, cousin. Do not despair,” Eomer told him quietly, but with assurance. “We did not come this far only to fail now. And Aragorn will make sure we get whatever assistance we need from Gondor to accomplish it. He is a true friend.”

Theodred grinned. “You think most highly of this Gondorian king, my brother – perhaps more highly than of your own king?” he asked teasingly.

A stern glare met his remark. “At least _he_ has more sense than to ask such foolish questions!” Eomer retorted. He held the glare for a moment, until they both started laughing and relaxed.

Presently, Eomer eyed him curiously and asked, “Now that the guests are gone, will you finally claim the royal bedchamber for your own? You will need the larger room once you are wed.” Though Theodred had said he did not move into his father’s chambers because the large room was needed for funeral guests, Eomer well knew that there was more to his reluctance.

Theodred stared at the table for a few moments, running a finger along the grain of the wood. Finally, he looked up and nodded. “Yes. Most of Father’s belongings were removed before the funeral when it was prepared for guests. Eowyn and Retaleoth are to go through it and make whatever changes they deem necessary, and then I will move in.” He paused, then added softly, “I wonder if it will ever stop feeling strange to me, as though I am a child stepping into his father’s too-large boots.”

Silence filled the room for a long stretch until at last Eomer replied, “Perhaps it will never fade entirely, but I feel certain it will dim in time. Theoden is yet too near in our hearts and minds for us to look on his study, his bedchamber and his throne as anything but… _his_.”

Theodred’s eyes flicked up to meet his cousin’s gaze and he smiled. “You were ever the sensible one, Eomer. And I thank you for that. I am sure I will need your steady words as I find my way. But, enough of this. We have work to do. I will see you later.” He rose and clapped his cousin on the shoulder before departing, leaving Eomer to watch him go with pensive eyes. Yes, it was going to take time to adjust to their new circumstance, but he had never seen Theodred looking so contented as he did recently. He had a feeling that Retaleoth would make all the difference in Theodred’s future.

xxxxx

Initially, and the few times after that when Eomer met Retaleoth, he had thought her very shy, because she was so quiet. Now, as he saw more and more of her, he was inclined to think he had been mistaken. He had judged her quietness to be shyness, but present evidence made him think that was not so. She simply was not someone given to speaking unless she had something to say, but when she did speak, her words had been carefully considered. 

Further, it seemed many others had formed the same initial opinion of her as he had, with the result that some seemed to think she could be pressed to do whatever they wished if they urged her forcefully enough. That was not proving to be the case as she undertook learning about the running of Meduseld, and helped Eowyn set it in order. More than once, Eomer had seen her firmly dictating to a servant what and how she wanted something done, and she had not needed Theodred or Eowyn backing her up in order to impose her will.

If anything, this new-found knowledge raised her further in his estimation. He had never had much use for soft, subservient women, and he was pleased to discover such was not the nature of his new queen. Eowyn, too, seemed to like her very much, and he was grateful that their forming friendship gave his sister someone to talk to who could answer the questions a mother normally would before a wedding. 

Though there was seven years difference in their ages, and they had lived vastly different lives, they shared a love for Theodred and the Mark, and Eowyn had even developed a fondness for little Tilleoth. The child was certainly a bright spot in the Golden Hall, cheerful and full of life. Clearly she adored Theodred and had no objections to her mother’s marriage, though Eomer supposed that might partly be due to her never having known her true father.

Eowyn was of the same opinion for one day as the child played in the Hall with the new puppy Theodred had given her, she commented to her brother, “It is pleasing is it not, to see such youth and happiness in our Hall? Hopefully, in the years to come, Theodred and Retaleoth will be blessed with more children, and Meduseld will ring with childish laughter.”

Eomer nodded, then observed, “It has been a very long time since that was so – not since you and I visited as children, before our parents died. After that, everything and everyone seemed changed.” He gripped Eowyn’s arm briefly before moving on to find Theodred for their meeting prior to his departure to check on the progress of building and the delivering of more supplies in the Westfold.

Eomer discovered he was riding almost as many leagues now as he had as Third Marshal. Then, he had wanted none but Firefoot as his mount, needing that steady familiarity in battle. Now, he had another young stallion he was training, and he sometimes rode him instead, to give Firefoot a rest. The new animal still needed time to settle down and react calmly to any situation, but he was coming along nicely, to Eomer’s satisfaction.

It was gratifying to see the fruits of hard work when he called at the various villages. There were bare spots in the surrounding area where sod had been taken up to build, reinforce or fill drafty chinks of the homes – just as Lothiriel had suggested. Eomer sighed, realizing that once again his thoughts had turned to the south. She had been gone for almost two months, and still his mind drifted to her at random moments – seeing her in his mind’s eye, wondering what she was doing, and wishing that it were…possible.

Shoving the annoying thoughts away, he busied himself with the task at hand. There was still a long winter ahead and much to do. Hopefully time and distance would eventually free him of her.

xxxxx

“Eomer, why do you stand alone and hidden in the shadows?”

He glanced up to see Retaleoth smiling gently at him. The Yule feast had ended and now most were on the dance floor, thoroughly enjoying the welcome opportunity to celebrate. Meduseld had not seen so cheerful a Yule in a very long time. He shrugged, telling her, “My thoughts were elsewhere. I will dance – give me time. Why are _you_ not dancing with your betrothed?”

She laughed, glancing around the room until her gaze found Theodred. “We have danced, but duty requires we make ourselves available to others as well, much as we are inclined to dance only with each other!” 

Her eyes were warm and full of the love she bore for Theodred, and it caused a pang inside him. What would it be like to love and be loved by a good woman such as this? And could he ever know that joy if he could not turn his heart from the woman he loved but could not have?

Retaleoth must have noticed the shadow in his eyes, and told him, with far too much perceptiveness, “Love is a strange thing, Eomer. It comes where and when it will, and we have little control over it. Sometimes it leads us astray, but mostly it is best to trust our hearts. They see what our eyes sometimes do not.” She held his gaze a moment, before lightly touching his arm and adding, “Come. The next dance is starting – will you take me on the floor?”

Deciding it was wise to shake off his thoughts and her words, he smiled readily and nodded. “Of course. It is an honor.”

For the next hour or more, he threw himself into dancing with every willing woman he could find, and they were in abundance. So many men had been killed in the war that they were in short supply as partners – for both dance and life. A number of the unmarried women eyed him hopefully, and even a few of the widows, and he could not blame them looking for a husband to share their lives. But neither did he feel inspired by any of them. None made his pulse quicken, nor drew his attention no matter where he was or what he was doing in the room. None were…Lothiriel.

Just as it appeared that his thoughts were to turn against him again, Theodred joined him. “Enjoying yourself, cousin?” he asked, and Eomer laughed.

“Not nearly so much as you seem to be!” Eomer teased in reply. “But it is good to see you fully recovered and up to all the dancing you are doing.” Turning his gaze back to the Hall, he added, “And it is very good to see a Yule where we may merely celebrate life and the turning of a year, without constant dread of war hanging over us.”

Theodred’s hand clamped on his shoulder and he murmured, “Aye – it is very good on both counts. But, together, you and I will see that the Mark grows and prospers now, just as my father always intended. We have defeated evil, we have survived, and we have formed very good friendships with not only Gondor, but Dol Amroth, the Shire and even Dwarves. Elves, I suppose, do not count since they are all leaving!”

Eomer chuckled, but reminded him, “Not all. Legolas is to remain a while, along with some of his kinsmen, and Aragorn said that his brothers-in-law are to remain at Rivendell, along with Celeborn. Though we had little contact with them in the past, it is still sad to know they will largely be gone from Middle-earth.”

“And what do you two discuss so earnestly?” Retaleoth asked, joining them and linking her arm with Theodred’s.

Without hesitation, he turned and pressed a kiss to her temple, then slipped his arm from her grasp to wrap it around her shoulders. “The goodness of life, that is all,” he told her. “Did you get Tilleoth to bed?” 

“Yes, much to her annoyance. She was always too young to attend any of the feasts at the Hornburg.” Then, looking pointedly at him, she poked a finger in his side, adding, “And she really is too young to have stayed up so late at this one! You should not have indulged her so!”

He laughed and gestured to Eomer. “I indulged Eomer and he turned out just fine anyway! Besides, she should be allowed to celebrate also. This is her victory as well – for now she has a bright future and may grow up without fear. We can be strict another time when it is more important.”

Laying her head against his shoulder, Retaleoth smiled. “It seems the king is both good and wise. I yield to his judgement in this matter.”

“The King also is tardy,” Eomer noted. “It is time for him to make his speech and conclude the festivities.”

Wrapping his other arm around Retaleoth, Theodred nuzzled at her hair, telling his cousin, “Not now, Eomer. I am busy.”

Eomer rolled his eyes, but after a quick kiss to his lips, Retaleoth stepped out of Theodred’s embrace. “To work with you, my love. I will not be accused of keeping you from your duties. In the meantime, I shall prepare a suitable expression of farewell for when we part this night!”

Theodred’s eyes glowed at her remark, and he stole another quick kiss before moving to the dais. It did not take long to attract the attention of the gathering, who soon came to stand before him in silence. For several moments, Theodred was also quiet, gazing down at the goblet of wine he had been handed. Normally, mead was used for the toast, but that was one more thing where they needed to recover more fully.

At length, he looked up, smiling. “My people, it will not surprise you that tonight my thoughts turn to my father. He long wished to see such a day as this, where all could gather without fear hanging over them. It was not his fate to see the outcome of all he labored for; instead that falls to me. And so this day I rejoice for myself, for my father and for all the Mark, indeed all of Middle-earth. We are strong and we are united, and I believe this coming year will see further increase of recovery and even prosperity. I will work hard to bring it to pass, as I know all of you will also. And so, before we part this night, I wish you a very happy and thriving Yule. To the Mark!” 

He raised his glass high as the people responded, “To the Mark!” and then they all drank. 

Next to Eomer, Retaleoth brushed at a tear that had slipped out. When he glanced down, noticing the movement, she explained, “He is too modest to mention the great part he had in bringing all of this to pass. It was not Theoden alone, but Theodred and Eomer and Eowyn, and many others, who stood true when Theoden was overcome by the wizard for a time. Were it not for all those who were faithful during those dark times, we would not be standing here.”

Eomer nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. “He knows that. But like the rest of us, he loved Theoden too much to do otherwise. For tonight, let it be Theoden’s victory. Theodred will have enough of his own, I am sure. And most already know how valuable he has been to the Mark, even if it is not much spoken of. Theodred was robbed, I think, of remembrance in song because he fell before the final battle and that overshadowed all else. But people do know of his part, and you and I will see that it is passed on in word if not song so that generations to come will continue to know of it.”

She smiled up at him, more tears forming. “Yes! And thank you, Eomer. I can see all the more why Theodred thinks of you as more a brother than a cousin. ‘Brother’ is less cold and formal, and you could never be either of those to him.”

Theodred was making his way toward them, being waylaid by well-wishers as he did so, so she hastily dried her eyes before he could reach them. Taking that as his signal, Eomer gave her a curt bow and said, “Good night, Retaleoth. Happy Yule to you.” With her return farewell ringing in his ears, he turned to say other goodnights before heading off to his bed. A new year, a new king and a renewed Riddermark. The future was not entirely bleak.

xxxxx

“Straighten your tunic. And your hair is mussed – perhaps we should braid it?”

“Would you stop fussing, cousin! I look fine, you look fine and it will not be much longer!” Eomer exclaimed in exasperation. “Men get married every day. It is not so difficult a thing!”

Theodred glared at him. “Maybe ‘men’ get married every day, but I do not! And she has done this before! She will know if –”

“She will know you are nervous and she will do all she can to set you at ease, because she will remember what it was like. And she will still have her own nerves. The last time she got married, it was not to a king. Marrying a soldier _has_ to be easier!”

Theodred laughed shakily and plunked down on the chair near his bed, sprawling haphazardly across it. “Oh, Eomer! I had no idea. All those years when I teased other men for their nerves, I had no idea. How can such a simple thing cause such…such terror! How can I face down a legion of orcs without flinching and quail at the thought of standing before an assembly to wed my precious bride?”

Eomer sat down on the side of the bed, kicking Theodred’s foot to indicate he should sit up properly. “You will muss your own clothes, sitting like that. How can it be so frightening? I do not know. Perhaps it is that with orcs we know what to expect. They are largely stupid and creatures of habit. Taking a woman to wife is far different. Suddenly what we do and say affects another person’s life – every moment of every day. And when we love them enough to marry them, that is no small thing.”

“I think you have summed up my entire life in those few words – everything I do and say from this moment on affects someone, somewhere. Whether it is Retaleoth or Tilleoth, you or Eowyn, or the Mark as a whole, it is so. Am I truly up to it, do you think?” Theodred questioned intently.

There was a tapping at the door, which Eomer knew was the signal for the ceremony to begin. Rising, he extended his hand to his cousin, and pulled him to his feet when he took it. Laying a firm hand on the other man’s shoulder, he said seriously, “You are more than up to it, Theodred. Even if you were not Theoden’s heir by birth, I can think of no one I would rather have rule over me. And you will be both an excellent husband and father. I do not doubt it and neither does Retaleoth. Nor should you. Now then, the lady awaits, and you are getting married, even if I must knock you unconscious, drag you into the Hall and say the words for you!”

Theodred blinked at his final words and then seized him in a fierce embrace. “Thank you, my brother. Some day I vow I will find a way to repay at least some portion of the great debt that I owe you.”

Rohirric weddings, even of their king, were not elaborate affairs. With their renewed ties to other kingdoms, they could have invited dignitaries from neighboring lands, but since they would all be gathering in Gondor soon for Eowyn’s wedding to Faramir, and since Theodred was less known as yet, they had decided to keep it closer to home with just their own people. And, after all, to Theodred’s way of thinking this moment was most auspicious for the Eorlingas – after long years without, they would have a queen. It had been remarked that it was very significant that Theodred had chosen a woman of their own land, and that she was a widow of the war. His advisers made it clear those were excellent political considerations, and he had been wise to do so.

He had not bothered arguing with them. In truth, he had thought of neither thing in his choice. He had always found Retaleoth agreeable, even when he knew her only as Cuthwine’s wife and Tilleoth’s mother. Cuthwine had been an amiable man and more than once he had dined with the little family, hearing of the man’s enthusiasm and worry about the coming birth of his child. It had been difficult seeing Retaleoth after her husband was killed, unable to help feeling guilty about the need to take these good men into battle, and often leaving their families bereft in the aftermath. 

It had taken nearly a year before her pleasant manner eased his discomfort, and as he often sat at table with Erkenbrand’s family, and since she now had returned to that family gathering, they had become well acquainted. He was not entirely sure when it was that he realized his feelings for her had deepened into something more than friendship. And even once he had, it had taken even longer for him to broach the subject to her to see if she shared them. The look in her eyes at his stumbling questions said more than words could have. She had simply touched his cheek lovingly and nodded.

That was when it became difficult. He had not been ashamed of her, or even particularly worried that anyone might disapprove, but he simply would not risk her or Tilleoth to Grima’s treachery if they were found out. And so he had pressed upon her the need for complete secrecy, even from her parents. The fewer that knew, the fewer that might reveal something with a tiny slip of the tongue. He had even kept it from Eomer, the brother to whom he confided most everything. They had courted in stolen moments, but mostly in a seemingly disinterested manner in full view of all. They had learned to say more with a glance or a brush of the arm than most did in speaking.

And now she would be his completely. There was no longer a need to hide or pretend or behave covertly. The woman approaching on her father’s arm, smiling at him with that oh-so-familiar look in her eyes, would soon be his wife. 

A nudge from Eomer’s elbow broke into his reverie and he stepped forward to meet her, taking her father’s position beside her to lead her forward. As Erkenbrand took his place next to Eomer and Elfhelm, Theodred raised his hand and the Hall fell silent.

“People of the Mark – friends. We gather here today to see our land renewed even further. I, Theodred, son of Theoden, King of the Mark, desire Retaleoth as my bride, and she is full willing. A king’s wife becomes a queen to their people, and so I ask you, shall Retaleoth, daughter of Erkenbrand, be your queen henceforth?”

“Aye!” erupted loudly from the gathering and without any hesitation, causing Theodred to grin at their enthusiasm.

“Then so it shall be!” he declared. Turning to Retaleoth, he said, “I now claim you as my wife and queen of the Mark. May our days be blessed.” Then slowly he bent and kissed her lightly for all to see.

As they parted, the Hall once more broke into loud, eager cheers of approval. Retaleoth moved closer and slid an arm around his waist as they turned to face their people as monarchs of the realm.

“Is mama married to Theodred now?” Tilleoth earnestly whispered to her grandmother.

“Yes, sweetness, they are married,” Eanswith replied, wiping at a tear. “You now have a new papa, love. And maybe one day even a brother or sister.”

The little girl considered this, then announced, “A sister would be nice, but I do not need a brother. They are too much bother!”

Her grandmother chuckled as she kissed the child’s head. “We shall see. Now come, let us go prepare for the feast.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7** (begins 2 April, 3020 III)

Eomer shook his head in disbelief at what he was hearing. “My lord, we must speak with the king at once. When will he be available?” one of the more annoying advisers pressed.

“I have told you, the king is with his bride, as he should be, and you will have to settle for me to answer your questions. I will not disturb him. When he chooses to make himself available, then you will see him and not before. Please, the man is just married – less than three days. Can you not even allow him a week of peace to get used to married life?” Then, grinning wickedly before turning away and departing, he added, “Besides, if you give him no time alone with his bride, how do you expect him to produce that heir you so eagerly desire?”

He strode quickly away before they could respond, but he had no doubt he had startled a few of them with that last remark. Now if it just made them think about what they were doing, and stop trying to get to Theodred, all would be well. Eowyn had a contingent of Riders guarding the hall to the king’s chambers, lest any of them attempt to sneak down there unannounced, but he wouldn’t put it past them to try. Still, if they were so foolish to brook the anger of Theodred, the guards and Eowyn – especially Eowyn – he had no sympathy for them. He well knew there was nothing they truly needed to trouble Theodred with – he had matters well in hand. This was all bluster and self-importance on their part.

Eowyn watched him moving down the center of the Hall toward the main doors and intercepted him. “Are they still looking for Theodred?” she queried, glancing behind him at the men staring forlornly after Eomer.

“Yes,” he sighed. “They did not like my telling them that they would have to make do with me.”

“They suddenly have more need of Theodred’s voice now that he is wed than they ever did before!” Eowyn spat acerbically. “Theodred would do well to purge the council of the lot and start afresh with younger, wiser men to aid him!”

Eomer grinned sympathetically at her and nodded, but told her quietly, “That will take time, as you know. He does not wish to step on too many toes too soon, but trust me – a few of them will gradually ‘disappear’!”

Eowyn returned his smile and asked sweetly, “Do I get any say in which are the first ones to go?”

Now Eomer did laugh outright and shook his head. “Of course not, little sister! You will be off playing wife in Gondor and too much occupied with that Gondorian husband of yours to even think about politics in Meduseld!” He moved to tweak her nose as he had often done to annoy her when they were children, but she was quicker now. Her hand caught his wrist in a firm grip and she repressed him with a glare of warning. Chuckling more, he pulled free and continued on his path out the door.

His words had reminded Eowyn of how near they were to their departure for Gondor. The wedding party would set out in less than a sennight and she still had much to do. Having lost Retaleoth’s assistance due to her own marriage, Eowyn’s days had gotten much busier. That thought in mind, she moved quickly to get back to her tasks.

xxxxx

“It is magnificent!” Retaleoth exclaimed, upon her first glimpse of Minas Tirith rising up the side of Mount Mindolluin. This was her first time traveling anywhere outside Rohan and, despite her normally quiet nature, she had been asking numerous questions about their destination. Even when Eomer and Eowyn tired of answering, Theodred was endlessly patient in responding to his bride’s queries.

In order to give the newly wed couple more time alone, and free them for any official duties, Tilleoth had remained in Rohan, going to stay with her grandparents at Helm’s Deep. As she had been missing her friends there, she was not at all displeased with this, though she had gotten teary-eyed when it came time to farewell her mother and Theodred.

A spate of warmer weather the past few days had brought out the wildflowers in abundance, and it was a considerably changed landscape they faced from when last they had come south. Farmers were still actively getting their crops in the ground so there was much fresh-turned soil. On the remainder of the Pelennor, grass now hid all but the very worst scars from the war, and significant progress seemed to have been made in repairing the City’s damage. New constructions had replaced the ones destroyed by the invaders, and the Dwarves had finished the new gate. 

Much cheering from the citizens accompanied the small wedding party as they made their way up through the City, having left the bulk of their escort camped on the Pelennor. It was another new experience for Retaleoth, never having been part of anything like this before, but her innate composure served her well as she rode beside her husband.

Many visitors had come for the Steward of Gondor’s wedding, and housing was at a premium. Most of the nobility of Gondor maintained homes in the City even if their primary home was elsewhere. King Elessar had opened his home to the Rohirrim this time, in order to leave room at Imrahil’s townhouse for dignitaries traveling from the Dol Amroth region who would be staying with him.

The change was both welcome and disappointing to Eomer. Much as he considered it in his best interest not to be under the same roof as Lothiriel, he could not deny his desire to be nearer to her. He had put in long hours during the winter, hoping to be too tired to dream of her at night while too busy to think of her during the day. It had not worked, and she crept into his mind at some point every day. At least he knew that when Eowyn’s wedding was over, he could return home and that should be the last he would see of her for a very long time. Perhaps she had remained forefront in his thoughts because he knew he would soon see her again come the spring.

They took a quiet meal with Elessar and Arwen that night, weary from the long journey. There would be much feasting to come in the next few days, so it was pleasant to have this opportunity to greet old friends and quietly talk amongst themselves without being on public display. Faramir, accompanied by Imrahil and his children as the Steward’s only kin, joined them. Eowyn made a point to be seated next to Faramir, regardless of what might have been intended. However, Arwen’s understanding smile suggested she took no offense at changes to seating arrangements, and rather than directing people to their places allowed them to choose a companion for dinner. 

Eomer managed to sandwich himself between Aragorn and Imrahil, but Lothiriel ended up across and down one seat from where he sat, so he could not avoid looking at her on occasion unless he studiously ignored Imrahil on his right. For the most part, he tried to keep his eyes fixed on the table whenever turned in that direction, though one of the times he did happen to look up, it was to find Retaleoth watching him, her head tilted slightly to the side. He quickly looked away before she could discern any partiality in his gaze. 

After the meal, they adjourned to the library for more conversation, and Eomer was pleased to learn what his friends from the south had been doing since last he saw them. He noted that Faramir and Eowyn had managed to disappear somewhere between the dining hall and the library, and he repressed a grin. He didn’t find it unusual that Eowyn would behave in such a manner, but he was a little surprised that Faramir had agreed to absent himself. Still, a beautiful woman in your arms did tend to overrule thoughts of protocol.

Even so, they were not gone overly long, and Eowyn seemed quite pleased with the results. Apparently she had been sufficiently kissed as to make it worth her effort! He grinned to himself, wondering if Faramir truly realized what he was letting himself in for. But, looking at the man, Eomer rather thought him too enamored to care.

Clearly Theodred shared that opinion. “Utterly smitten! The poor man never stood a chance with Eowyn. Her beauty lured him to her and he was hopelessly ensnared.” He clapped a hand on Eomer’s shoulder, adding, “It does me good to see her so happy. It has been too long in the coming.”

Eomer nodded, swallowing hard at his words. All his life he had tried to protect Eowyn – well, as much as she would allow it – but these past few years had made him feel he had failed her miserably. Trapped at Meduseld caring for Theoden in his dotage when she wanted to be doing more, her steps haunted by the Worm, and then despair when Aragorn did not return her affection. In all honesty, he knew there was nothing he could have done about any of those things, but it bothered him all the same. It did not matter that Eowyn tended Theoden due to her great love for him more than any sense of duty, that she would have emasculated Grima if he had ever tried to go too far, or even that what she had perceived as love for Aragorn proved only to be great admiration and respect. She was his sister, and seeing her lying in apparent death on the battlefield had made him feel he was to blame, whether it was so or not.

Theodred’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “Stop it,” his cousin said quietly. “You are not to blame. Sometimes life is just difficult, and we each do the best we can. We cannot protect everyone we care about from every ill wind that blows.”

Eomer shook his head slightly and grinned, glancing at Theodred. “You know me too well. It truly is annoying, you know that?”

Theodred laughed. “Now you know how I feel when you do the same to me! Come. Tonight is not for morose reverie. These are happy times, and we shall enjoy them.”

They moved back into the flow of the room and were soon in conversation, a goblet of wine in hand. After the long day’s ride, they turned in early, though it surprised no one when Theodred and Retaleoth were the first to excuse themselves. Before Eomer could follow them out, Eowyn stopped him. “I would take a final turn in the moonlight with Faramir, Brother. If that is all right with you?”

He arched an eyebrow at the sudden propriety and Eowyn pinked slightly under his gaze. When he turned his eyes on Faramir, the man met his probing look steadily and calmly. Nothing needed to be said – this man would not dishonor Eomer’s sister. Inclining his head in assent, he smiled at them, teasing, “I shall check your bed in an hour, though!”

A sharp finger jabbed in his side and he winced slightly, before moving away with a laugh. “And assaulting your brother is not the way to win his favor!” he called back over his shoulder.

Eomer had reached his room, his thoughts still on Eowyn and Faramir, before he realized he had managed to avoid doing anything more than greet Lothiriel during the whole course of the evening. He supposed that was a good thing, though somehow it left him feeling empty, and his good humor had quickly fled. Shoving all thoughts from his mind, he focused on readying for bed.

xxx

To Eomer’s surprise, Lothiriel joined them for the breakfast meal. He had overlooked her speaking at some length with Eowyn the previous evening, but apparently the two had agreed to spend the day in preparations for the wedding.

Eowyn, in particular, was grateful for a friendly face. She knew much of weapons, and even of keeping a royal court in order, but preparing for a wedding, especially one in Gondor, was daunting to her. Lothiriel’s calm presence was reassuring, and Eomer was relieved to see the worry lines slowly ebbing from his sister’s face as the other woman took her in hand. He was grateful as well for this consideration of Eowyn, though he did not see anything unexpected in it. Lothiriel had always been ready and willing to step forward and help out wherever needed. He was glad Eowyn would have a friend in Gondor. He could not quite envision his sister becoming overly friendly with Arwen, though possibly over time it would happen.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Theodred and Retaleoth in the breakfast chamber. He noted their attire and asked, “The ride here was not sufficient? You wish to return to the saddle so soon?”

Theodred chuckled, then explained, “I thought I would take Retaleoth down to Snowmane’s grave, and then to the Harlond. She is eager to see all the sights.” He smiled at his bride before asking Eomer, “Will you join us?”

Though Eomer knew the offer was sincere, if he went along they would feel they must include him. If they took only guards, however, they would essentially be alone as the guards would not expect to be part of their conversations. “No. I am to spend time with Amrothos and Erchirion today. But enjoy yourselves. At last you are free of advisers trying to get at you. That will end all too soon!”

Theodred chuckled at the observation but nodded in agreement. “True enough, though you and Eowyn did very well in guarding my gate, for which you have my profound thanks!”

After all had eaten and begun to disperse to their various destinations, Aragorn drew Eomer aside with an unreadable expression on his kingly face. After a moment, he commented, “A man of Rohan once told me that Men of the Mark do not lie, and therefore they are not easily deceived. And, yet, here you are speaking an untruth and Theodred is believing it! I know full well that Amrothos and Erchirion have other plans today that do not include you!”

Eomer shrugged and gave a laugh. “It was more an excuse than a lie, and Theodred chose to believe it because he recognized it for what it was! Newly wed couples do not truly desire other company, as you should well know!”

Aragorn chuckled with him, then asked, “And how _will_ you fill your time then? I would enjoy your company, but I fear I have meetings I must attend most of the day.”

“No doubt Eothain and I can manage some mischief in town,” Eomer replied, then noting Aragorn’s raised eyebrow told him solemnly, “but of course nothing that shall require the King’s intervention on our behalf!”

Now Aragorn laughed outright. “Indeed? A dull day for you, then?”

Eomer shrugged. “So it would seem. Just think what you will be missing in your meetings!”

The king gave a scowl. “I would gladly forego them to share the company of you and Eothain. Be grateful that Theodred lived, if for no other reason than it spared you being Theoden’s heir. I do not think you would care much for politics!”

“And you do?” Eomer questioned, his voice sobering.

It was Aragorn’s turn to shrug. “It could not be avoided in my case. I was born for this destiny. At least I had a good long while of freedom first, and Arwen at my side makes it bearable.” He raised an eyebrow again. “Should not you be considering a wife and family also, my friend? I would highly recommend the marriage state. It has excellent benefits! Fine company though Eothain is, he does have his limitations!”

Eomer snickered. “True! But for now, there is no lady. Theodred still has need of me to be his eyes and ears around the Mark, and it would not be fair to a new bride to see so little of her husband.” It was not his true reason, of course, but Aragorn did not need to know that. And it sufficed as an excuse to postpone matrimony.

“Even so, you had best keep an eye out. With the end of the war, men are eager to take a wife. If you wait too long, you may find your choice considerably narrowed,” Aragorn advised. “It would not do for the lady you admired to accept another because she was unaware of your regard.”

Involuntarily, Eomer’s eyes flicked to his friend’s face, but Aragorn’s expression gave no indication of a hidden meaning to his words. Possibly he had not realized how near the mark his words had struck. “I will keep that in mind.”

With a sigh, Aragorn told him. “I must go. I will see you at dinner, or perhaps supper. We shall see what the day brings for each of us. Enjoy yourself, my friend.”

Once he was gone, Eomer considered the possibilities. He had not yet found a gift for Eowyn’s wedding that satisfied him. Perhaps he would browse the shops of Mundburg for something. Of course, if he wanted to do that, no doubt he’d need to buy Eothain several tankards of ale to persuade him to accompany him on such an excursion! With that thought in mind, he returned to his room for his sword and then headed off to find his friend.

Two hours later found Eomer wandering the streets of Minas Tirith alone. Eothain had gone off fishing with some other Riders, and wasn’t in camp when Eomer showed up looking for him. He had considered convincing someone else to accompany him, but decided against it, due to the nature of his plans.

While Eowyn seemed more attuned to womanly things since her betrothal, he still found it difficult to connect her with many of the feminine items he found in the shops. She would never be a simpering, overly primped female, though that appeared to be what the shopkeepers generally stocked for, in anticipation of their business. Neither did he perceive Eowyn as someone who would douse herself in scents, and the smell in the shop was so overpowering to his senses that he did not linger long perusing the wares.

More than a little frustrated after an hour of searching, he was ready to give up, and possibly beg Retaleoth’s assistance in the endeavor. Surely another woman would have a better idea than he did, though he had wanted it to be something fairly personal. Lost in thought as he considered that, he was startled to hear Eowyn calling his name. Glancing up, his height enabled him to see over the heads of the others crowding the street, and to spot Eowyn standing with Lothiriel, waving an arm to catch his attention. For a moment, he was almost tempted to pretend he had not noticed them and move away rather than encounter Lothiriel, but he was sure Eowyn knew he had seen them. His eyes were too keen after long years as a soldier for him to feign ‘blindness’. 

Steeling himself, he waded in their direction. They had moved off to an alcove, out of the flow of foot traffic, waiting for him to join them. Teasingly, he inquired, “Have you been shopping all this time, Eowyn? Surely you have bought out the entire City by now!”

She slapped his arm, but grinned evilly. “Not quite, but since you are here now, I am sure you will wish to assist us in carrying our packages!” With that, she shoved the bundles she held into his arms, then took those Lothiriel had and did the same. Looking him over a moment, she pretended to consider briefly before announcing, “Yes, I think you can carry more. We will be able to keep shopping a while longer.”

Scowling good-naturedly at his sister, he retorted, “No, of course I do not have anything else to do, Eowyn. I would be happy to assist you!”

“Excellent!” she smiled, ignoring his sarcasm. “Come. The next shop is just down this street.” Lothiriel bit back a smile before turning to follow her, and Eomer fell in resignedly at the rear.

Still, for all the inconvenience of this situation, it did have the advantage of enabling him to overhear anything Eowyn might admire but not purchase. Perhaps he would get an idea for a gift in this manner, without having to resort to Retaleoth. While the two women examined various fine slippers, he tried to keep out of the way of other shoppers. Waiting for them outside would have been preferable, but not allowed him to watch for what drew Eowyn’s notice.

“Did you bring any money with you, Eomer?” 

He was pulled from his thoughts by his sister’s question. “Some. Why?”

“I do not have enough left for these slippers. Will you get them for me and I will repay you later?”

“Eowyn, I have already told you I will buy you anything you wish for your wedding. You do not need to repay me. It is my duty as your brother,” he told her.

She paused a moment, looking down at the shoes, but then brought her eyes up to meet his gaze. “I know,” she said quietly, “but I cannot help preferring to do things myself.” She bit her lip, then gave him a weak smile and added, “Thank you!”

He grinned encouragingly at her, letting her know he understood and nodded his head toward the purse on his belt. “Take whatever you need. Do all women need this much… _stuff_ in order to get married?”

She glared at him, took his purse, and turned away without comment, but Lothiriel laughed. “Need? Probably not, but all women want their marriage day to be special and perfect. They hope that all this _stuff_ will ensure it is so.” After a moment, she added, “And since Eowyn marries the Steward of Gondor, possibly it is also necessary to satisfy the populace. They expect a spectacle!”

Without thinking, now that he was inadvertently alone with Lothiriel, he softly queried, “I still need to find a gift for Eowyn. Do you know something that she would like? Nothing has caught my eye.”

Lothiriel seemed mildly surprised that he was speaking so amiably with her, but pondered his question. At length, her eyes brightened. “I believe I know the perfect thing. We saw it in another shop and she greatly admired them, but thought them too extravagant to justify their purchase. If you will trust me on this, I will slip away when I can and purchase them for you. You could always return them if it did not suit once you saw them.”

He considered this and then nodded. “I will trust you. Do you need money now or shall I repay you later?”

“As Eowyn has your purse at present, perhaps it will be easier if you give it to me when I bring the gift. That will avoid any questions from your sister.”

Eowyn was returning, having paid for the slippers, and they fell silent as she added that bundle to Eomer’s load. He idly wondered if she would be burdening Theodred in such a way if their cousin had been the one to happen upon the shoppers rather than him. Yes! He was sure she would. He might be king now, but Eowyn would treat him no differently than before. At the thought, he paused. Actually, she might. For all her familiarity with Theoden as their uncle, she had never publicly behaved incorrectly. She was a lady of the royal court in that respect. Theirs might be a more relaxed court in Edoras, but certain protocols were common in all lands.

He followed the women into the street, where Lothiriel looked at a list they had made. “I believe we found everything,” she announced. “If we missed anything, we still have time to obtain it this afternoon or tomorrow.”

Eowyn stretched and hid a yawn behind her hand. “Good. This has been a tiring morning.”

“Indeed? I am the one carrying all your packages. How tiring can _looking_ be?” Eomer inquired pointedly.

Eowyn tossed him a repressive scowl before checking the contents of his purse. “It would seem that you have enough money left to buy us dinner at an inn! Lothiriel, surely you know of a place with decent food.”

Lothiriel suppressed a laugh as Eomer rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to go head-to-head with Eowyn. “Lead on,” he told them, in his most beleaguered voice.

Lothiriel guided them to an inn just down the street, and they were able to get a table large enough for Eomer to stack his load of packages out of the way of other customers. The stew they were served was tasty, if unremarkable, and Eowyn dominated the conversation with her planning and questions. Lothiriel patiently answered everything she asked, while Eomer kept his attention focused on the food. Finally, the ladies seemed ready to depart, so he gathered up the bundles and the three made their way through the busy streets.

The Steward’s wedding had brought an influx of celebrants, and they heard mention of various dances and activities that would be taking place throughout the City over the next few days. Invited to the wedding or not, the occasion would be enjoyed by all. 

Back at the King’s house, Eomer dropped the packages in Eowyn’s room and then left the women to their planning. Not needing to return to shopping, he made for his own room and an afternoon nap – a rare commodity for him.

Only an hour later, he was awakened by a rapping at his door, and opened it to find Lothiriel standing there. Without thinking, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it into some semblance of neatness after his nap. She eyed his dishevelled appearance with amusement, before holding out a package she held.

Taking it, he glanced at her, and her nod encouraged him to open it. Inside the wrapping lay two hair combs, that caught the light and shone lustrously. When he picked one up, he saw that a running horse had been etched into the mother-of-pearl decoration at the top of it. Setting it aside to look more closely at the other, he found the shape of the sun was etched there, very similar to the sun emblem on many of the Eorlingas shields and banners. He looked up at Lothiriel, puzzled by what he was seeing, and she explained, “Some of the craftsmen were inspired by the emblems Rohan bore, so they have begun creating jewels and other decorations that make use of them – to honor your people. Eowyn thought these too expensive, though she very much admired them. They would look marvelous in her hair for the wedding.”

Eomer let out an emotional breath. Indeed, they would look wonderful in his sister’s hair, and these were truly the sort of personal gift he had been hoping to find for her. “I thank you,” he said huskily. Then slightly recovering his composure asked, “How much do I owe you for them?”

She smiled conspiratorially. “I am known to the shopkeepers here and was able to bargain the price down. They were particularly eager to negotiate when they knew the combs would adorn Eowyn. Her wearing of them will draw more business to them. They –”

“Lothiriel?” Eowyn was coming toward them and Eomer hastily shoved the combs behind his back. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just coming to see you,” Lothiriel answered mildly. “But your brother was inquiring about the best taverns in the City. I believe he and some of his Riders wish to sample Gondor’s ale. It seems your kinsmen prefer it to all the wine we tend to drink here!”

Eomer kept silent, hoping Eowyn would believe the lie. Turning back to him, Lothiriel added, “Yes, I think you will like the Seven Bells on the Third Level. Amrothos says it is a favorite of the Swan Knights when they are in town.” With a curtsy, she said, “If you will excuse me.”

“Thank you,” he belatedly called after her as the two women began to move back down the hall, already having shifted to conversation about the wedding. She turned long enough to flash him a smile over her shoulder, adding a wink for good measure.

He closed the door to his room and again pulled out the combs to study them. They were beautiful, and perfect, and he felt very guilty to be asking help of Lothiriel after all his efforts to avoid her. A profound sadness washed over him, but he forced it aside. Eowyn would wed within the week and he would return home. He would see very little of Lothiriel then and all would be well. He could not contemplate otherwise.

To avoid further contact with her, Eomer had approached Retaleoth about getting the money to her that he owed, and that had worked quite well. Certainly it made Eowyn less suspicious than finding Lothiriel with him. The closer the wedding date came, the more on edge Eowyn was, but through it all Lothiriel and Retaleoth calmly guided her.

Faramir was feeling nerves of his own, so Aragorn had suggested a jaunt to Emyn Arnen, to see the progress on his home there. It had turned into a party of just the men, even Aragorn joining the family members of the wedding couple. It had made for a long day of riding, out and back, with about an hour at the site, but all enjoyed the fresh air and opportunity to get away from the City for a time.

The day of the wedding was clear and sunny, and Eomer was awakened early by an urgent knocking at his door. It was Eowyn, already fretting about things – did he have the sword gift for Faramir, had his clothes been cleaned and laid out, did he remember what he needed to do and say as his part of the ceremony? 

With a chuckle, he caught her shoulders. “Eowyn! Be at peace. All will be well, and even if everything does not go off with perfection no one will pay much mind. This should be a day of joy for you. Now, take a deep breath and relax!” He snugged her close into his embrace, and gradually he felt her stiffness ease.

“You are right, I know. Weddings in the Mark always appeared so simple and easy, but here everything is complicated,” she bemoaned.

“Only if you allow it to become so,” he argued. “You know what to do and you will do it. If not precisely as Gondor expects, it will be close enough to satisfy, and that is all they may expect. You will still be wed at day’s end, and by tomorrow all errors will have been forgotten.” 

He moved away and began pulling out some clothes to wear. “Will you ride down to the encampment with me? It might take your mind off things for a little while.”

Her eyes went wide. “Eomer! You will stink of horse! Promise me you will bathe upon your return. Do not embarrass me!”

With feigned innocence he eyed her and asked, “Stink of horse? Whatever do you mean? Horses do not stink – the smell is most pleasant.”

“Eomer!” she snapped warningly, and he threw up his arms in surrender.

“I promise! I take it that means you will not accompany me. Very well, is there anything else you need me to do for you – other than bathe, dress appropriately, show up on time and speak the correct words?”

She gave him a chastizing look as she considered the question, then told him, “No. If you can manage that much, I shall be satisfied.” She paused, staring hard at the floor, then looked up at him with tears rimming her eyes. “I am going to miss you so very much!” 

She fled back into his startled embrace, and he held her close in silence. “Aye. I will miss you, also, little sister. But I promise to come visit regularly. I will not lose my sister entirely.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 (begins 20 April, 3020 III)

The wedding was beautiful, and Eowyn radiant. Just as at his uncle’s funeral, Eomer had found it difficult to check his emotions. Now, savoring a glass of wine as he watched the dancers swirling past him on the floor, he felt…tired. So much had happened in the past year, and so much of his own life remained unsettled. At least during the War he had a goal and a purpose. Now his only goal seemed to be getting through each day.

“She is lovely,” a voice commented from his elbow, and he turned to find Theodred beside him. Following his cousin’s gaze, he saw Eowyn sweep past, laughing as she stepped through the dance movements with her new husband.

“Aye,” he said quietly. “I am not sure Faramir realizes what a fortunate man he is.” He took another swallow of wine.

“Oh, I think he does,” Theodred argued. “I have seen the way he looks at her. He knows.” He turned to grin at Eomer and inquire, “And what of you, Cousin? Still you do not seem to favor any lady. I have seen you watching Lothiriel – are you considering her for your wife?”

Eomer stiffened and shook his head. “She is not for me, Theodred. The daughters of Princes do not marry soldiers,” he said firmly.

Theodred’s eyebrows knit in puzzlement. “Soldier? Eomer, you are far more than that!”

“I do not think Imrahil would agree with you on that score,” Eomer replied curtly, straightening. “And now, return to your own bride. There are many ladies desiring a dance partner. I will go and secure one for the next.” He moved away before Theodred could press the conversation further. 

Everyone seemed determined to believe that any man could marry any woman of his choosing in this new world. Were they giddy with their own love not to see the truth of it, as he did? He was sure Theodred only desired his happiness, but one must consider the circumstances when choosing a course of action. Eventually, Theodred would realize that also.

If he thought he had ended the discussion with Theodred, he was mistaken, for his cousin watched him for some time after that. When Retaleoth approached, he was lost in thought. “Does something trouble you, my love?” she asked quietly.

“Eomer,” he answered with irritation. “He is too stubborn for his own good!”

Retaleoth smiled at the observation. “Do you mean regarding Lothiriel?” she asked, causing him to blink and turn to meet her gaze.

“You know?”

“I suspect. He watches her far too often and closely, and avoids being in her company for any length of time. I do not entirely understand his reticence in the matter, but I do believe he is attracted to her,” she told him, catching his arm and laying her head against it as she watched the dancers.

“He thinks himself unworthy of her, that is why he holds back!” Theodred snapped. “How stupid of him!”

“Perhaps ‘confused’ is a better choice of words to describe him. But maybe he can be persuaded to think more clearly.”

“How? When he gets an idea in his head, it can be difficult to dislodge it,” Theodred opined. Then straightening with resolve, he added, “But I will find a way! I owe him that much, whether he desires my interference or not!”

Quietly, Retaleoth reached up and touched his cheek turning him to look at her. “There are those who could perhaps do better in that regard than you, my love.”

“Who?” he asked in surprise.

“Eowyn.”

“Eowyn! No. She is just married herself. I will not burden her with this.” Theodred shook his head vehemently.

“She would want to know, and I believe there are arguments she might make that your obstinate cousin would not listen to coming from you. Besides, there are ways of addressing this issue without being too disruptive to Eowyn’s marital bliss,” Retaleoth told him.

Theodred’s eyes narrowed, but a slow grin twitched at his mouth. “Do tell. What have you in mind, sweetness?”

“First we must get all of those involved together in the same place long enough for everything to play out. That will not be easy since we return home soon, as does Imrahil and his family.”

Theodred shook his head. “Even before that, though, we must find out Lothiriel’s thoughts. If she is not inclined toward Eomer, I would not urge him to act. I should never forgive myself if I did so and then she rejected him. I would never want to cause him such pain.”

Retaleoth touched his cheek again and smiled lovingly. “No, of course you would not. Shall I approach Lothiriel and see if she will speak of it?”

For a moment, Theodred did not reply, but then he shook his head. “No, I will speak to her. If she is willing, then I must also inquire of Imrahil whether he has any objections. That is Eomer’s other concern. First that she will not have him and second that Imrahil will refuse the match. We must be certain on both counts.”

He grinned. “As to getting everyone together in one place, I think I may be able to accomplish that readily enough. I will send Eomer back to the Mark via Dol Amroth – after all, I need someone to scout the Dimholt as a possible trade route with the south!” he laughed. “And probably Eowyn would be willing to spend time on the coast with her new husband, at least long enough to talk sense into her wayward brother!”

“Then it is settled. Now all you must do is speak with Lothiriel and then all will be ready. If she is amenable to this, then I will talk to Eowyn. We should give her at least a couple of days with Faramir before sending her on this journey, though.”

xxx

“Lady Lothiriel,” Theodred said with a bow as he was shown into the library of her home where she waited. “I thank you for seeing me.”

Though a little surprised by his formal mode of address, she nodded cordially. “Not at all, my lord. A visit from you is always most welcome. We are friends, are we not?”

“Indeed, we are,” Theodred affirmed, gesturing for her to be seated, and taking a chair nearby. “And it is for that reason that I come. If you will permit me to be blunt, I believe my cousin has feelings for you, and I must know if you return his regard.”

Lothiriel blinked in disbelief at his announcement, and her cheeks pinked slightly before she recovered her composure. “That is blunt, indeed, my lord. I do not know what to say.”

“Please, just be honest. It will not damage our friendship regardless of what you say, but I _must_ know.”

Licking her lips nervously, Lothiriel nodded. “Your…cousin has made it plain that he has no interest –” she began hesitantly, but Theodred cut her off.

“My cousin has made it plain that he is a fool – something I never thought to say of him. Since he grew to manhood, he has usually demonstrated excellent sense and reason, his temper notwithstanding, but he is stubborn. He has persuaded himself that you are above him, and that he may not desire you. Though my betrothal to Retaleoth convinced him I had no designs of marriage with you, he clings to the idea that neither you nor your father would accept, or welcome, his suit. And I am unable to make him think otherwise. If you desire him, my lady, I fear it will fall to you to convince him. There is little more I can do.”

She had moved over and stood gazing out the window, not looking at him, while he spoke. Quietly, he added, “Lothiriel, now is not the time for subtlety. If you would have him, please tell me so.”

She turned to meet his eyes unwaveringly, and for a few agonizing moments, he feared he was mistaken about her regard for Eomer. But then she dropped her gaze. “Yes, I would accept his suit,” she murmured.

“And what of your father? Would he consent, do you think? I do not wish to encourage Eomer if there is no hope of success,” he pressed.

She fingered the back of a chair as she considered the question, then looked up. “Father holds Eomer in the highest regard, I am certain. I confess, he had expected that I would marry someone of high rank within Gondor but, after all, until recently we had few dealings with your land. If I truly desire it then he will not oppose my happiness.” She paused, then said firmly, “And I _do_ desire it.”

Now her gaze was more uncertain. “You…are _sure_ …that he wishes…”

Theodred smiled reassuringly. “I know my cousin well. He would not speak of it, both because he thought I wished you for my own and because he thought it improper, but I can see it in his eyes, and so can others. He tries to avoid you, but his eyes will not cooperate. They follow you constantly. There are few things that so rivet his attention.”

After several moments, she came to seat herself opposite him again. “What should we do now?” she asked. “I do not doubt Father’s agreeing to this, but perhaps it might be wise not to catch him off his guard in the matter?”

“I concur. Having meddled thus in my cousin’s affairs, I had best make certain my efforts do not go amiss. Shall we call him in now?”

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Lothiriel nodded and rose, going to the door to have a servant summon her father. They waited in silence the few minutes it took for Imrahil to arrive, raising a questioning eyebrow at them.

“Imrahil, my dear friend, your daughter and I have a matter of some import to discuss with you, if you do not mind.”

“Certainly,” Imrahil smiled, still looking perplexed. In other circumstances, he might have thought this a marriage proposal, but he had been there himself to witness Theodred’s trothplighting to Erkenbrand’s daughter, and seen the happy couple together at Eowyn’s wedding.

Once they were all seated, Theodred rubbed his chin thoughtfully, wondering how to begin, but Lothiriel took the initiative. “Father, Theodred has…made me aware that what I deemed indifference on the part of his cousin is not that at all. Rather, he does not feel worthy of requesting my hand. Father, I would accept his suit, if we are able to persuade him to offer. And we” – she gestured to Theodred and herself – “would wish to know your thoughts.”

Both Imrahil’s eyebrows had now raised in astonishment. This was not at all what he might have expected. A time or two, he had noticed Eomer watching Lothiriel and thought he might approach her. Instead, he had seemed to keep his distance so Imrahil had decided his interest did not extend beyond friendship. As for his daughter, he could read her better, and he very much suspected the young man had caught her eye, though she never spoke of it outright. Even Amrothos had voiced the opinion that they would make a good match. But he had seen nothing to think they were progressing in that direction.

Looking keenly at his daughter, he read the honesty in her eyes. This was no whim; she meant her words. And she had been to Rohan, seen how they lived – she was not blindly entering into something. Nor was she the silly sort of girl to merely have her head turned by a handsome and charming man, giving no thought to the consequences. For that matter, he had never seen Eomer make any effort to charm her anyway – quite the opposite. But marriage?

“Are you certain, my dear?” he questioned carefully. “What you ask…he is not the sort of man with which you have usually been acquainted, you know. And there will be some who will not hesitate to claim, loudly and often, that he is unworthy of my daughter.”

“If I may, my lord,” Theodred interjected. “Do keep in mind that should anything happen to me, before I sire an heir, Eomer would be heir to the throne of Rohan, and his posterity after him. While his occupation is perhaps rather lowly on first glance, he is actually one of the highest ranking men in all of Rohan. Not to mention that I consider him a brother more than a cousin.”

“And why are _we_ having this discussion, rather than my having it with Eomer? He has never struck me as being the timid type!” Imrahil chuckled.

“My cousin has yet to be persuaded that he may approach you, but if we have your approbation to proceed, your daughter and I intend to change that,” Theodred told him plainly.

Leaning back in his chair, Imrahil nodded, then sat for several moments pondering their words. At length, he replied, “I confess, you have surprised me, for I would never have expected to hold such a conversation. But I also have noticed my daughter’s attention to Eomer, and her discouragement at his lack of response. He is a very good man, and if my daughter wishes to accept him, I will not oppose it. You have my blessing to…persuade him! Can I be of any help in that regard?”

Theodred grinned at his friend. “As a matter of fact, you can!”

xx

By the time Theodred returned to the King’s house, the wheels had been set in motion. Retaleoth did not appear particularly surprised by his success. “I thought as much. There is usually something in a woman’s eyes when she desires a man, and I felt sure that she cared for Eomer.”

Theodred shook his head in amusement at this pronouncement, but did not bother remarking on it. Likely he would never understand the mysteries of women. 

It had been two days since Eowyn’s wedding, and Theodred had delayed their own departure back to the Mark for a couple of days to provide sufficient time to organize everything. Imrahil’s household was leaving on the boat at noon the next day, and advised it would only take them three or four days to reach Dol Amroth. The Prince was to arrange for one of his Swan Knights to act as a guide and accompany Eomer’s party overland; that trek should easily take nine days. Faramir and Eowyn would be approached next, and if they agreed to the plan, they could sail on the boat that would be leaving the Harlond two days after Imrahil departed. When Eomer arrived in Dol Amroth, he would receive a most unexpected welcome!

The next step was to inform Eomer of his new assignment. Hopefully, with the time that had passed since their conversation at Eowyn’s wedding reception, his cousin would suspect nothing when Theodred gave him instructions.

“You wished to see me, Theodred?” Eomer asked, moving into the room at Theodred’s gesture. 

“Yes. I have been talking to Aragorn and Imrahil, and I think we might make effective use of the Dimholt, now that the path is clear. Aragorn says it will easily accommodate a party on horseback, but he did not take sufficient notice as to whether wagons could use that route. Imrahil has agreed to host you in his home and introduce you to several merchants who may have goods that will interest us, and then once you are done gathering information at Dol Amroth, you can return home over the Dimholt. Aragorn is preparing a map for you of what is likeliest the best course, and you can take a half dozen men to accompany you in case you meet up with any of the enemy still hiding in the mountains.”

He sat back and waited for a response from Eomer, who was clearly pondering his remarks. At length, his cousin looked up and replied, “You realize we are not yet in a position to trade, and can ill afford to purchase many goods?”

“Yes,” Theodred acknowledged, “but that will not always be the case. And when the time comes, we will be ready. It may be that we will need to make some improvements to the road before it is a workable solution. You will begin the process.”

Eomer shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “As you wish.” He kept his countenance impassive, all the while mildly cursing Theodred in his thoughts. _Dol Amroth! Of all the places to send him!_ He had hoped for escape from the fire, and here he was moving even closer to the flame!

“Good. Aragorn said he would have the map ready for you sometime tomorrow. You can leave the next day. Take however long you need to accomplish it, and I will see you at home. That will give you today and tomorrow to pack what you will take and choose the men to accompany you, other than Eothain, of course!”

The two chuckled at the final remark. Eomer and Eothain had long been friends, meeting as boys when Eomer came to live at Meduseld. They had grown up together, trained together and no one had been surprised when Eomer named him as his second in command after being made Third Marshal.

“I am almost tempted to ride with you,” Theodred commented. “I should like to see the sea for myself – you must tell me all about it. But, I am needed at Meduseld, and Retaleoth is anxious to get back to Tilleoth, so this is my only recourse at present. And Imrahil assures me I am always welcome, whenever I am able to get away. Perhaps I will try to take my family there later in the summer. No doubt Tilleoth would like to see the ocean for the first time also.”

Eomer smiled at Theodred’s words. “You sound like an old family man, though you have been married only a month!” Then, with a grin, he confessed, “It is good to hear you speaking of such happy things. Retaleoth has been a blessing to us all.”

His throat tight with emotion, Theodred merely nodded and managed to utter, “Aye, she is!”

xx

To Theodred’s relief, no one that knew of their plans did anything that might alert Eomer. His cousin was intelligent and clever. If he discovered what Theodred was attempting, he would find a way to avoid it. Having always been completely open and honest with Eomer, other than that tiny lapse when he did not mention Retaleoth, he felt somewhat guilty about the subterfuge.

Once Eomer set off, it was Retaleoth’s turn to act – informing Eowyn of the situation. The couple had been little seen immediately following the wedding, but now joined them for meals, and they had surfaced long enough to bid farewell to their kin. As they made their way back up the streets of Minas Tirith, Retaleoth moved her horse in alongside Eowyn’s and said quietly. “I would speak with you in private, Eowyn, if you have a few moments, though what I have to say affects Faramir also, so perhaps you will wish him to be present.”

Eowyn raised a curious eyebrow at her and nodded. “Of course. Will you join us in an hour at our home?” She pinked slightly at the casual appellation she had applied to the Steward’s house. It still felt strange to think of it as her home, but it pleased her to name it so without forethought.

“Yes, that would be fine. I will see you then. And do not be concerned – it is nothing too dreadful,” Retaleoth assured her with a smile. No need to cause undue worry.

It had taken most of the hour to reach the upper levels and see their horses tended. Retaleoth had changed from her riding dress into a gown of lighter-weight fabric, as the days had been warm lately. While tying her hair back, she eyed her husband in the mirror. “Do you wish to come also, or shall I do this alone?” she asked.

Theodred considered and then told her, “You go. I am sure you are well able to manage it, and coming from you it will be clear to Eowyn that it is not just my overprotective meddling that is in play here!” He laughed. “I will miss seeing the look on her face, though, when she decides to chase down her brother and back him into a corner! I should like to be there to witness that! There are few women who can be so intimidating as Eowyn, especially considering her almost delicate features and rare beauty. One would not think her frightening at all, unless they knew better!”

“Hush!” Retaleoth admonished, moving to kiss him. “Do not speak so of your cousin! Could she be any other way after having to live with you and Eomer all these years?”

“Ah, so it is _our_ fault, is it?” he chuckled, drawing her into his arms. “Well, likely Eowyn would agree with you on that!” 

He lost himself in a kiss until his wife drew back, pushing him away. “None of that! I have work to do!” At his pout, her stern look softened, “For the moment, anyway. I shall not be averse to your continuing at a more appropriate time!”

xx

“I should have seen it!” Eowyn fumed. “I was so caught up in funerals and weddings, that I took no notice, but I should have seen it! Now that I think on it, Eomer behaved very strangely toward Lothiriel when we visited Aldburg last summer. That should have caught my notice more…”

“Do not blame yourself, my love,” Faramir interjected, moving to embrace her and still her agitated pacing about the room. “I did not recognize what was happening either, and I usually am not so inattentive.” He looked up at Retaleoth, adding, “In truth, I must thank you. This gives me an excuse to slip away to the coast with my bride. I might never have found time to do so otherwise! Once she has dealt with Eomer, we may continue to enjoy our honeymoon there!” He kissed Eowyn, and her annoyance melted away as she eagerly returned it.

Smiling in amusement at the couple, Retaleoth rose. “Excellent. You still have today and tomorrow before the boat leaves. That will put you into Dol Amroth ahead of Eomer and give you time to decide how to approach him. Both Lothiriel and Imrahil are ready to move forward however you may need them to act.”

xxxxx

Theodred waved a final time as the boat moved away from its docking at the Harlond. “Well, we have done all we can. If Eomer can thwart all our efforts then he deserves to be miserable the rest of his life! But I would wager Eowyn will win – if anyone can gain the upper hand over him, it is her!”

Retaleoth smiled at his words, slipping an arm around his waist. “I just wish for him, and Lothiriel, to find such happiness as we have. To you this is a battle to be won, but for me it is merely an anxious concern for people who are dear to me.”

He turned and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Aye, I understand. I am concerned for him also.” After a moment, he laughingly added, “But any time I can outmaneuver Eomer, it is always to be attempted! He would do the same to me, I am sure!”

With their plans underway, all that was left was their own departure for home the following day. Farewells were said with Aragorn in the courtyard of the Citadel, and Gondor’s king assured them, “You are always welcome in my home. Next time bring Tilleoth. I am sure she would enjoy it.” He grinned mischievously and added, “And I will hope your efforts on Eomer’s behalf go as intended. It is time for our dear brother to think of himself and not always be serving others.”

Theodred laughed and clasped Aragorn’s extended arm. “Indeed! And I thank you for your part in it, though as to that, we did not lie. I hope the Mark will be ready for trade within the next year.”

Aragorn nodded. “I have plans to restore and improve the Great West Road also, to make travel between our lands easier. Perhaps we can establish wayside inns for travelers to use so they do not need to camp in the wild. But, you are leaving. We will discuss that further in our letters. Safe journey to you!” He smiled at Retaleoth to include her in his farewell, offering a short bow. Once Arwen had also taken her leave of them, they were quickly mounted and on their way. It had proven to be a far more eventful visit than they had anticipated.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9** (begins about 25 April, 3020 III)

Despite his unfortunate destination, Eomer enjoyed the journey south. The Swan Knight chosen to guide them was a man named Brenross, whom he had met during the War, and it was pleasant to become acquainted with this new territory. This part of Gondor was more heavily wooded than much of Rohan, and there was an abundance of animal life dwelling there. Game was easy to come by for their meals, and the streams that branched off the Anduin were teaming with fish. Fishing had become a guilty pleasure for Eomer, as it occupied too much time and produced too little result for him to justify it very often. Since they were in no particular hurry, he and several others indulged themselves in the practice along the way, both to supplement their other food but also simply for the fondness of the activity.

They stopped in Linhir, enjoying a bed at an inn before continuing their journey around the mountains, skirting the foothills to Dol Amroth. Riding down from the higher elevation of the mountains toward the coast afforded Eomer his first glimpse of the sea. From this distance he could tell little more about it than to note its vastness, but as they drew nearer to the city, the tang of salt air drifted to their nostrils, and they noticed gray birds wheeling and crying above them. Brenross said they were gulls, that sometimes came farther inland if they did not find a sufficient meal along the coast.

Eomer’s stomach tightened as they approached the outskirts of the city, only partially distracted from his nerves by the children that ran out from their homes to stare at the soldiers riding past. Apparently recognizing them as not being a threat, the children began waving madly at them, and both Eomer and his Riders could not resist a wave or gesture in response, though they were far more subdued than their young admirers.

Too soon, they were on the main road leading through town toward the castle set on a high promontory overlooking the bay. Flags bearing the silver swan-prowed ship on the blue background whipped in the wind, struggling to stay anchored to the turrets where they were secured. They had been expected, and so the gate guards did not detain them. There was a long avenue up from the gates to the castle courtyard, and Eomer gazed around with interest at the pristine grounds. 

There were similarities and differences to what he had seen at Minas Tirith. Both castles were built from the white stone that shone in the sunlight, though Minas Tirith’s attachment to the side of Mount Mindolluin gave it a sturdier feel than this place. Minas Tirith and its buildings were beautiful in their own way, but Dol Amroth’s castle had a more delicate, ethereal feel to it, and Eomer could readily believe there had been an Elvish influence at some time in its past. The green carpet of grass, ornamented with flower beds, only added to the rustic feel that was missing in the northern city of stone.

He was so caught up in looking about that he did not immediately register that there were more familiar faces awaiting his arrival on the front terrace than he had anticipated. Eowyn and Faramir stood alongside Imrahil and Lothiriel, and he blinked in surprise when he noticed them. Eowyn had mentioned nothing about coming here, and he wondered at her presence. For some reason, the hair on the back of his neck prickled – usually a warning of danger – but there was certainly nothing to fear here. Attributing it to nothing more than a chill from the sea air, he dismounted. 

Lothiriel was lovely, as always. In some indefinable way, he almost thought her more beautiful in this setting than ever before. Her Elvish beauty was even more pronounced, with the backdrop of this castle, and it took his breath away. He forced his gaze away from her before he revealed his feelings.

Imrahil was moving forward to greet him, and he turned his attention there. “My friend, welcome!” the Prince said, reaching to embrace him.

He grinned in response, then drew back, jerking his head toward the others waiting on the terrace. “What is all this? I had thought only to see your family, not my own as well.”

Imrahil chuckled. “Indeed, but Faramir has brought his lovely bride to our fair city to introduce her to his ‘home away from home’. We have always considered him one of our own. And I do not think the lady objected to one final opportunity to visit with her brother before he returned home.”

Eowyn was hurrying down the steps even as they spoke and embraced her brother. “Welcome! It is fabulous here, Eomer! You will adore the sea and all its charms. I am so pleased we get to learn of this new delight together.”

Eomer’s brow wrinkled slightly at his sister’s discourse. She did not usually carry on in such a way, but then marriage could do strange things to a person. Certainly she gave the appearance of a nobleman’s refined wife. He grinned within himself – he knew better!

“Come. Greet the others and then we will get you settled in your room. Lothiriel has chosen one for you with a fine view of the harbor,” Imrahil directed. He gestured to his Swan Knight who had accompanied them as guide. “Brenross will see to getting your men settled in the barracks and the horses tended.”

Left with no choice, Eomer ascended the steps with Eowyn on his arm to greet the waiting party. “Eomer,” Faramir acknowledged with a nod. “I take it you were surprised, which I am sure was Eowyn’s intent in not speaking of our visit.”

“Indeed!” Eomer replied, glancing scoldingly down at his sister who wasn’t the least bothered by it.

“My lord, Eomer,” Lothiriel said, offering a curtsy. “Welcome to our home. I hope you will find it as agreeable as Eowyn does.”

Formally he bowed. “I thank you. I am sure I will find nothing wanting,” he answered, feeling stiff and unnatural. 

She gestured toward the front doors, and told him, “If you will follow me, I shall be pleased to show you to your room.”

There was that prickling on the back of his neck again. Something felt decidedly _odd_ about all this, though he still could not identify anything that was amiss. For the time being, there was little option but to go along with things and see if anything could be detected that was causing these sensations.

The castle itself was open and airy, and with the warm spring day and a balmy breeze blowing, the windows were thrown open with the curtains billowing in their draft. Lothiriel led him up to the third floor and then down a long corridor almost to the end. “Your room is a little out of the way, my lord, but here you will have the best vantage of the harbor. Erchirion says you can see at least five leagues distance, because he recognizes something he knows is that far away.” Turning to face him, she glanced around to be sure all was in order, then told him, “I will send a servant in a few moments to attend to any needs you may have. Supper will not be for at least another hour, but if you are hungry I can have food brought, or if you wish to rest I will arrange to have you wakened in time.”

“I am fine. I ate heartily at midday so I am able to wait for supper to eat again, and I do not need to rest. Perhaps I will walk about the grounds to stretch my legs,” he said stiffly. For some reason, he felt more awkward with her than usual.

“Your servant will know where to find me if you would like company, my lord. If not, feel free to wander as you please.” She gave another curtsy and excused herself, and he stared at the closed door for several moments.

Despite what he had told Lothiriel, once the servant was come and gone, assured that their guest had no need of him at present, Eomer could not bring himself to venture out of the room. To do so would be to risk encountering Lothiriel, and a renewal of her offer to accompany him on a walk about the grounds. He did not want that. He was tired of rebuffing her, and to do so in her own home would be even ruder than his past actions had been. It rather astonished him that she was even still speaking to him considering his behavior toward her, yet she had given him no clue as to what she thought of his avoidances. And he was not at all sure he wanted to know her thoughts on that. Theodred had sent him here to perform a specific task. He would focus his attention on that, finish as quickly as possible and be on his way. He would be sorry to part from Eowyn a second time, but they had already said their goodbyes so she should expect his departure.

If nothing else, Lothiriel had been right about one thing – the view from his room was incomparable. He spent the remainder of the afternoon sprawled on a cushioned chair he found on the balcony, the wind whipping his hair about his face. In other circumstances, he would find this a most relaxing setting, but the tension would not entirely leave him no matter how long he sat there.

A knock at his door brought him from his thoughts and he returned to the room to answer it. A servant advised that supper would be in a quarter hour, so he straightened his clothes and took a brush to his tangled hair. It had been a mistake to leave it unbound in the wind, but he had enjoyed the feeling of freedom it gave him, if only briefly.

Once he stepped into the hall and headed in the direction from which they had come, it did not take long to encounter other servants who readily directed him to the dining chamber. He arrived just as Eowyn and Faramir did also. Imrahil’s three sons had joined them and there was another round of greetings before Lothiriel began directing everyone to their seats. He ended up between Erchirion and Eowyn, though Lothiriel was again seated in his line of sight.

The meal passed uneventfully, and then they all retired to the library for drinks and conversation. As had been the usual practice at Minas Tirith when he stayed in their home, her brothers soon pressed Lothiriel to entertain them with her lap harp. Her music formed a pleasing backdrop to the evening, and to his surprise the tightness in his muscles eased considerably.

Eowyn had gone to sit by Lothiriel to observe more closely, and in between songs, his sister was discussing the possibility of learning to play. It turned out Faramir had his mother’s lap harp, and Eowyn wanted to play it for him. As the evening was waning, Faramir rose and enticed his bride to accompany him for a moonlight walk on the beach, and she enthusiastically heeded his bidding.

Imrahil watched them depart with smiling eyes. “It is good to see Faramir so happy. His has been a difficult life, but he has borne it well, and such rewards are richly deserved. It would seem there was some good that came of the War. Is it not so?”

“Yes,” Eomer acknowledged. “The same is true of Eowyn. I am very pleased for her. I hope to see her thrive in the future.”

“And what of you, my friend? All around us I see young men seeking the company of young ladies, but you are not following their lead. Such restraint!” the Prince teased.

Flushing slightly, casting a furtive glance at Lothiriel to see if she was taking note of the conversation and relieved to see her attention was elsewhere, he shrugged. “All in good time. There is still much to do in the Mark and I am not yet at leisure to pursue my own interests,” he defended.

Rising from his chair, Imrahil smiled down at him. “Well, do not wait too long, Eomer, else the fairest maidens are all snapped up!” Turning to his daughter, he added, “Good night, dearest. I will see you in the morning. Amrothos, Erchirion.” 

Elphir had already departed with his wife, and now that his host was leaving Eomer felt he could also withdraw. “I shall turn in now, as well,” he told them as he stood.

“Will you go sailing with us, Eomer, tomorrow or the next day?” Erchirion invited. “You cannot truly know the sea until you have done so. I should be happy to take you to all my favorite spots.”

“I…am supposed to be working,” Eomer replied hesitantly.

“Nonsense! I am sure Theodred does not expect you to only work while you are here. He knows you are among friends and experiencing new things – he would want you to fully explore them!” Amrothos couldn’t resist adding his voice to the argument.

“Very well. But perhaps the day after tomorrow would be better. Let me take counsel with your father and see what he has planned. I understand he will be arranging meetings for me with several merchants,” Eomer said, capitulating.

xxx

At breakfast the next morning, Imrahil told Eomer of the arrangements he had made with merchants, and offered the library for him to meet them. “I shall be happy to join you for the meetings, if you wish, my friend. Perhaps I can add something worthwhile to the discussion, being familiar with both Gondor and Rohan.” 

“I would appreciate that,” Eomer admitted, not entirely feeling equal to such diplomatic endeavors. Trade contracts were far outside his area of experience.

Assuring Eomer that he would leave the following day free for the sailing venture, they turned their attention to the meal in preparation for the day.

The first merchant arrived at mid-morning, and more followed in a steady succession, with only a slight break at midday for a meal. By late afternoon, when he had seen the last of them, Eomer felt stiff and confined from being indoors all day. As he and Imrahil exited to the hall, the Prince told him, “I think things went well. There are a couple more merchants I would have you meet, and I will try to arrange something for the day after tomorrow or the one after that.”

Lothiriel met them in the entrance hall, accompanied by young Alphros. Noting Eomer still working his shoulders to loosen his stiff muscles, she announced, “Alphros and I are going for a walk along the shore, my lord, if you would care to join us. You have been cooped up for too long, I think.”

“A fine idea!” Imrahil said, before Eomer could respond, and he felt he had little choice but to accept. 

“It will be good to get out of doors, I confess,” he answered, not looking directly at her.

Alphros stared up at the tall, blond man a long moment and then asked, “Can I ride on your shoulders? Papa lets me do it. And I bet I could see forever from up there!”

Lothiriel laughed at the remark, but admonished, “Lord Eomer is our guest, Alphros. Mind your manners.”

“It is all right,” Eomer said, smiling down at the child. He had not had much opportunity to be around children, though he liked them. Having seen fathers carrying their children in that manner, he was acquainted with the practice and felt sure he could manage it. “I would be happy to do so.”

Lothiriel eyed what he was wearing and then suggested, “You might prefer to change into other clothing, my lord. What you have on is rather fine for the beach.”

At her words, he glanced down, and decided she was likely correct. “If you will excuse me, I shall return momentarily.”

When he came back to the entrance hall, Alphros was dancing about with impatience. Spotting Eomer, he asked eagerly, “Can we go now?”

“Yes,” Lothiriel told him with a smile. “We can go.”

The child ran over to Eomer, raising his arms to be lifted up, and Eomer hoisted him to his shoulders. Alphros quickly caught hold of Eomer’s head, suddenly realizing just how far from the ground he was. All he had noticed before was that Eomer was tall like his father, but now he saw that this man was much bigger than Elphir and it was a little unsettling to him. Eomer firmly grasped the boy’s legs and told him, “Hold on! Let us be on our way.”

Judging them to be ready, Lothiriel moved toward the door, leading the way. Gradually recovering his confidence, Alphros kept up a steady chatter of childish conversation and questions all the way down to the shore. Imrahil and his family had a private stretch of shore to themselves, and it was there that Lothiriel guided them. Almost as soon as they stepped onto the sand, Alphros wanted to get down and took off running. Giggling and jumping, he played in the incoming breakers while Lothiriel kept a watchful eye on him.

Though there was some sand along the banks of various rivers or streams in the Mark, Eomer had never before encountered anything quite this extensive. Stooping, he let a handful run through his fingers, and noticing his study of it, Lothiriel began telling him the history of Dol Amroth. “It is uncertain what the origins are of the first people who lived here, but it is largely agreed that they were of Numenorean descent. In either version of the tale, Dol Amroth has always been ruled separately, but with full allegiance to Gondor. 

“The Elves dwelt for a long while at Edhellond, about fifty miles north of here along the coast, and there they built ships to sail to the Undying Lands. They have been gone since about 2000 of the Third Age. But, not unexpectedly, most of the coastal towns are largely home to fisher-folk who make their living from the sea. Much of our commerce here at Dol Amroth ties to that resource.”

Alphros came running back to join them and flung himself at Eomer, hugging his leg. “Bury me!” he cried.

Eomer turned a puzzled eye on Lothiriel at the request and she smiled. “He wishes you to cover him with sand, up to his neck. Then he can wiggle his way out of it like some sea turtle or other creature,” she explained.

Shrugging, Eomer nodded. “Very well. But you do realize that if I bury you, I will do a good job of it. You may not be able to get out,” he warned with mock seriousness.

“Yes I can!” Alphros assured him. “I can get out of anything!” With that he plopped down on his back to prove himself.

Kneeling beside him, Eomer began scooping sand over the boy’s body and limbs, and to his surprise, Lothiriel joined him in the effort. It did not take long to cover the child, but Eomer kept digging and adding to the pile until it was several inches deep. “There now! Let us see you escape that,” he challenged teasingly.

It was a bit of a struggle, but finally the boy breathlessly broke free and jumped up. “See? I did it!” he exclaimed.

“I am impressed!” Eomer told him. “You are truly powerful!”

Beaming the boy reached for his hand, and tugged for him to rise. “Come on. I will help you find some shells. Maybe we can even find some seaweed.”

Yielding to the plea, Eomer rose and followed the child, while Lothiriel trailed behind them. She doubted very much Eomer particularly wanted to find any shells, but it was generous of him to humor her nephew so. She was more than a little surprised that he had agreed to this outing, in spite of her father pressing it upon him, and she had enjoyed the relaxed feeling of spending time in his company. Alphros’ childish enthusiasm apparently had distracted him from avoiding her, and she would have to call this a very pleasant experience. 

It did not take long before both Eomer and Alphros had their hands full of shells. Reluctant to disrupt this peaceful scene, Lothiriel called to them, “We should be going in now. The tide is starting to come in again and Alphros will need a bath before supper.”

“I don’t want a bath!” the boy protested. “Why can’t I just jump in the water and get clean?”

Patiently Lothiriel explained, “That will not get you very clean without soap, and the sand would stick to you on the way back inside.”

“Eomer could carry me so I don’t get dirty again,” the child argued, giving her a wide-eyed hopeful look in an effort to persuade her.

“He could, but then you would get him all wet and he would get dirty crossing the beach. It is a bath for you, young man! Do not argue further. You know your mother requires it whenever you have been to the shore.”

Alphros’ lower lip extended in a pout, but Eomer stooped down. “It must be so. My mother was the same – always making me take baths. Come – you must help me carry all these fine shells back to the castle.”

Distracted by the new activity, the boy forgot his annoyance for the moment, and he eagerly set about gathering as many shells into his arms as he could hold. “Are you going to be able to walk and carry all those?” Lothiriel asked with raised eyebrow. Alphros was determined but unsteady on the sand.

“Sure!” he promised with the overconfidence of youth, though she continued to eye him skeptically, as shells kept tumbling from his precarious armload.

Eomer studied the situation for a moment, then scooped the boy up in his arms, to a giggle of glee. A few more of the precious shells fell, and Eomer could no longer carry any himself. Glancing at Lothiriel, he instructed, “Load us up. We can carry many more shells now.”

With Alphros cradled in front of him, Lothiriel began piling the remaining shells onto his chest and belly, the child giggling madly the whole time. Clearly he had forgotten his upset about having to go inside and bathe – at least temporarily. Once they were ready, Eomer nodded to Lothiriel, “Lead on, my lady.”

Back inside, a bucket was obtained for the shells and Lothiriel led Alphros off to his mother as Eomer returned to his room. Closing the door behind him, the reality of what he had just done struck him. All his efforts to avoid spending any intimate time with Lothiriel and now this: the two of them laughing on the beach, a child – a ‘son’ – between them. It had been almost as though they were a family, and he should have been more wary – remained on his guard. Yet…it had felt so right, so…wonderful.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he went to wash and change clothes. He must be more careful and not allow such a thing again. His heart would not survive many such encounters.

Over supper and the remainder of the evening, his behavior was more circumspect. If Lothiriel wondered at the change, she made no comment, to his relief. Most of the talk involved the next day’s outing on Erchirion’s boat. Faramir and Eowyn were to join them as well, and the Gondorians enthusiastically extolled the pleasures of sailing.

They retired early that they might set out at daybreak. When they gathered for the morning meal, Lothiriel was pouring out tea for both Eomer and Eowyn. The former sniffed curiously at it while Lothiriel explained that it was ginger tea. It was believed to help prevent any seasickness, and she recommended their drinking two cups before they departed. Eowyn seemed to have no objections, though Eomer could not say he found the tea particularly appealing. Even so, he did as instructed and forced himself to down the requisite amount.

Faramir was a seasoned sailor, though he had not had much opportunity for it in recent years and was pleased to again have the chance. While she voiced no concerns, Eomer saw a glimmer of hesitation in Eowyn’s eyes about this endeavor, so he tried to calm her with his casual attitude about it.

The Gondorians quickly had the gear loaded onto the boat while Lothiriel got the siblings settled into seats. Eomer watched with interest all the activity taking place around him as they prepared the boat and launched. Bobbing about while still tied alongside was decidedly different than sailing free, and initially the ride was a bit bumpy. Eomer and Eowyn had quickly grabbed for hand holds as the boat leapt into the waves, tugged along by the winds, and now both appeared a little uncertain about this venture.

They scudded along for some time, with the sailors pointing out various sights to their guests – dolphins playing in the water, distant islands and the like. Though the ride began to smooth as they got farther out, Eomer was becoming uncomfortably aware of a churning in his stomach, and he kept shifting position trying to relieve it. A tap on his shoulder shook him from his distress to see Lothiriel handing him a biscuit. As he was not particularly hungry, and food was a distasteful thought at the moment, he shook his head, but she persistently shook it for him to take. “Eat it,” she said. “It will help your queasiness.”

Clearly he had not hidden his difficulties, and he followed her instructions. The dry biscuit tasted of ginger just as the morning tea had, and he chewed it carefully. When he finished, she offered another. Still not really wanting to eat, he decided to trust her judgement on the matter.

Eowyn seemed to be unaffected, though she had noticed Eomer’s situation. Lothiriel also offered her a biscuit in case her difficulties merely took longer to present themselves. As they neared the first island, Eomer was relieved at the thought of getting onto solid ground once more.

Erchirion, Amrothos and Faramir quickly had the boat anchored, and they waded to the shore. Once there, Lothiriel touched Eomer’s arm again. “Perhaps you wish to lie down for a few moments and allow your stomach to settle,” she suggested, offering him another biscuit.

It was embarrassing that she noticed his distress and was being so solicitous, but he had little option. Eowyn was also now hovering, increasing his discomfort at all the attention he was drawing. “I will be fine,” he protested.

“I would advise doing as Lothiriel instructs, Eomer,” Amrothos interjected. “She is very good at treating people who suffer from such illness. She cannot cure it entirely, but she will make it more bearable for you.”

As it was apparent that the others agreed with her, Eomer felt outvoted in the matter. “Fine,” he grumpily acquiesced, crunching on the biscuit as he sprawled on a clear patch of sand, well back of the waves. A tree there afforded some shade also, and the others gathered around. He had closed his eyes when he lay down but now blinked them open to say, “You do not need to stand around and stare at me. Go off and enjoy yourselves. I will be fine here on my own.”

The others looked uncertainly at one another until Faramir decided, “I am sure Eomer is right. Lothiriel can leave the biscuits for him to eat while we do some exploring.” Though as concerned as the others about his brother-in-law’s well-being, Faramir understood the embarrassment all the attention was causing him and sought to alleviate it.

Following this lead, Erchirion pointed off to their left. “Shall we walk to the waterfall? It is not far and we can be back in less than an hour.” While many of the nearest islands were little more than sand spits, this was the most substantial of them, with even some hills and trees to go along with the waterfall farther inland.

The morning was getting warmer as the sun rose higher in the sky, and Eomer dozed briefly under its comforting rays. When he woke, he felt decidedly better, but ate another biscuit to be on the safe side. Rising, he stretched and looked around, deciding to explore the vicinity until the others returned. A walk along the water’s edge revealed more shells and some of these were different than the kind he and Alphros had discovered the previous day. Collecting a few of the most interesting ones, he deposited them next to the remaining biscuits. The boy might enjoy these when they returned.

He now ventured along the shore closer to the tree line, examining the unusual trees and shrubs there. Some he had seen in Dol Amroth, but others were entirely new. It was not long into his explorations that he heard voices and found the others were returning.

Hurrying toward him, Eowyn asked, “You are feeling better?”

“Yes,” he assured her laconically, not really wanting to focus too much further attention on himself. “How was the walk?”

“Glorious!” Eowyn enthused. “The view from the waterfall was amazing! It is not far, shall we walk back with you so you can see it?”

He shook his head, not wanting them to go out of their way on his behalf. “What is next?” he asked the Gondorians.

Amrothos considered, then asked, “Do you wish to continue or shall we return to the city? Faramir and Eowyn could sail again another day, as it does not agree with you.”

Stubbornly he protested. “Let us go on a while longer. Perhaps it has passed and will not trouble me again.”

Lothiriel and Erchirion cast doubtful glances at one another, but no one argued the point. They moved to the shore where they were soon back on the boat and shoving out into the deeper water. To Eomer’s dismay, it was not long before the queasiness returned, despite his munching on biscuits almost as soon as he boarded. They had sailed some distance, and Eomer was quite pale when Lothiriel finally caught Erchirion’s eye and signalled with her head for him to turn toward home. A slight nod acknowledged his understanding, and they were heading back to the harbor almost before Eomer realized it. He had been so focused on not being ill that he had stopped paying attention to where they were going.

“I am sorry to have ruined your day,” he told the others as they helped him shakily onto the pier.

“Do not let it trouble you,” Amrothos kindly assured him. “It happens to quite a few people, and cannot be predicted. We are only sorry that you are suffering so. Lothiriel will attend you and see you set right.”

That was not what Eomer had in mind, but he was too miserable to resist at just this moment. Back at the castle, she soon had him sprawled on his bed, a cool cloth over his eyes after he had swallowed a cup of ginger tea. She put more biscuits by his bed and then left him to rest.

She checked in a couple of times, to see how he fared, and though he felt better, he pretended to sleep rather than have to speak with her. By suppertime, the worst of it had passed, but he still felt queasy enough that he didn’t wish to eat, and considering all that happened the past couple of days, he felt determined to avoid Lothiriel for the remainder of his visit. He could keep to his room tonight, pleading illness, finish the business he had here in the next day or so, and then be on his way. He would have to be more careful in preventing further instances of their being thrown closely together. 

He sighed, looking at his still-pale face in the mirror. He did not doubt her concern was sincere, but it would be too easy to become comfortable with her tender attentions. Already, he had let down his guard far more than he ever intended. Well, no more. It was for the best.

Despite his plans, Lothiriel arrived with a servant and tray of bland foods when he declined to join them for the meal. She recommended he try to eat something later if he could, saying it would probably help, and then she was gone.

By the next morning, his determination was fixed. He was up very early, took a breakfast in his room and then made for the library. He organized the information he had written down during the meetings with merchants; he would see the last three today. He had been working there for more than an hour when Imrahil joined him.

“Ah, there you are, Eomer. Feeling better, I hope?” he greeted.

“I am, thank you,” he replied with a smile. “I suppose I am not meant to be a sailor!”

Imrahil chuckled. “Not all are, though I am sorry you had to suffer. I have news that may cheer you, though. I have planned a feast for tonight, as I think you will be leaving us soon. We will celebrate Faramir’s wedding as well as honor our guest from the north.” He nodded at Eomer to indicate he was the guest.

“That is very kind of you,” Eomer replied, somewhat reluctantly. While he could not object to such festivities in honor of his sister’s wedding, he knew they would likely involve dancing and thus again put him at risk with Lothiriel. Changing the subject, he asked, “When will the first merchant be here?”

“Within the hour,” Imrahil told him. “The last two will come this afternoon. I do not think you have had much time to see our city. Shall I show you around after this morning’s meeting? It will give you a chance to see how my people live and what sort of commerce we have here.”

Eomer readily assented. “I should like that. Thank you.”

“Excellent. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to write some dispatches before our meeting. One is to King Elessar, if you wish to send anything in the packet,” he advised, rising from the chair where he had seated himself earlier.

“Not at this time,” Eomer acknowledged. “Possibly I will write a few lines before I leave for the Mark, and you may include it whenever you next have reason to send a packet to Minas Tirith.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies. I didn't notice it was Wednesday until the wee hours this morning, so I missed posting yesterday's chapter. But, yes, you are allowed to nudge me with a reminder.

**Chapter 10** (begins 6 May, 3020 III)

Eomer stretched again. All this indoor activity was far more tiring than he would have expected. He wasn’t sure he had done anything truly requiring physical effort since he had arrived. At least on the journey here, there were camp duties that took some effort. Imrahil knocked at the open door, rejoining him but now with Lothiriel in tow. “Lothiriel will be joining us, Eomer, if that is agreeable to you.”

Able to think of no polite way to avoid it, he shrugged. “Of course, if she wishes.”

The father and daughter kept up a steady conversation as they walked, telling him of the city’s history, and the years Imrahil had known as their Prince. “Did you know,” Imrahil asked, “that years ago, when my father still ruled, that Aragorn was in the service of Gondor, and came here under the direction of Steward Ecthelion? He went by the name of Thorongil at that time. I met and greatly admired him then. Imagine my surprise when I recognized our new king as that same man!”

“Though he seems a man of about my age, I know he is quite a bit older,” Eomer replied. “It would seem he has accomplished much in his many years. He also fought in the Riddermark, in the service of my grandfather, Thengel King.”

“One tends to forget your royal heritage,” Imrahil observed. “But in war, nobility becomes irrelevant. Every hand is needed to battle an enemy.”

Eomer’s eyebrows twitched at the remark; yes, he had royal ancestry, but Imrahil had politely avoided noticing the considerable difference between being an heir and being the son of a royal daughter.

The streets of Dol Amroth were cobbled and rather narrow compared to Edoras. Shops lined most of the larger streets, just as they did in Minas Tirith, with the homes being set farther back along quiet lanes. Likely that was so businesses could be readily seen by passersby, who would hopefully be enticed inside to make purchases. Much of what was sold tied to the sea in some way, and there were many trinkets made of shell.

They wandered the wharfs in the harbor as Imrahil told him of the fishing ventures, shipping between there and other harbors and even some trade with Umbar. The Corsairs had made that difficult when Sauron lived, but now with calmer waters they were getting back to a more agreeable arrangement. Goods from that source would also be a consideration for trade with the Mark.

At midday, Lothiriel led them to a shop selling seafood, where they procured plates of food and then settled at an outdoor table overlooking the harbor. Gulls like the ones Eomer had seen as they first approached Dol Amroth were wheeling overhead, keeping a sharp eye for handouts or unattended food that could be snatched.

For all the new strangeness of this place, at least Eomer had eaten fish before and quite enjoyed it. They had served seafood at some of the feasts at Minas Tirith, giving him the opportunity to sample it, and much of it he found quite tasty. It would seem he didn’t find the sea entirely displeasing. After so little food the day before, he ate with relish, and then they had to hurry back for their first meeting of the afternoon.

He grew restless and on edge as the evening came nearer. They were done with their meetings by mid-afternoon and there was no question the household was bustling in preparation for the feast. Eomer kept to his room until it was time to go down to supper, unable to avoid the gathering since he had been designated as one of the purposes for it in the first place.

Certainly considerably smaller than the gatherings that had taken place at Mundburg, this one was still sizable. Quite a few guests had already arrived before he put in appearance, and they mingled in the drawing room as they awaited the signal to come to supper. Eomer managed to snare a glass of wine from a passing server and work his way closer to Faramir and Eowyn. At least as the hostess in Imrahil’s house, Lothiriel was too occupied with guests and servants to draw near. Even so, despite his best efforts, his gaze still managed to betray him more than once by searching her out in the crowd.

He had been seated at dinner between Amrothos and a nobleman from Edhellond, the latter of whom eagerly plied him with endless questions about the Riddermark. On the few occasions when Eomer was able to glance at Amrothos, he caught his friend’s knowing grin. Not until the meal was ended, however, did the young man intervene and regretfully draw Eomer away so that he might escape.

“My apologies, Eomer! I could not resist seeing how you dealt with him. He is well known for being talkative. I should have rescued you sooner!”

Eomer shrugged, then fixed him with a reproving glare. “I will owe you for this, and the Eorlingas have long memories!” he threatened teasingly.

“Now I am very afraid,” Amrothos chuckled. “I think I shall not like to see what you have in store for me!”

The two men laughed together as they moved into the large hall used for dancing, both knowing it was a threat with no bite. Unless, of course, a suitable means of retribution presented itself and was too good to pass up!

Eomer had relaxed over dinner, but now his nerves had returned, and the tenseness in his stomach was making his food sit a little uneasily. At home, he had often used Eowyn as a shield when he wanted to avoid dancing with someone, but she was too happily ensconced on Faramir’s arm to likely be an option tonight. He procured more wine and took a large swallow of it, hoping he could find a reason to exit early. He had tentatively set his departure for home as two days hence. All he had to do was sidestep Lothiriel until then.

There were enough ladies eager for a dance partner that he was able to be on the floor whenever Lothiriel was in the vicinity, but at length even he needed a breather. As he paused, Imrahil approached, smiling at his friend. “It looks as though you are enjoying yourself, Eomer. I am very pleased.” He turned to look at Faramir and Eowyn on the dance floor before adding, “And those two hardly know anyone else is here, so they are not difficult to entertain!”

Eomer chuckled at the remark. Certainly it was true. He did not think they had danced with anyone else during the course of the evening. Every time he had considered approaching his sister, she had been back on the floor with Faramir before he was able to reach her.

Without his notice, Lothiriel had joined them and was there before he could move away. Bad enough, but Imrahil now suggested, “Ah, Lothiriel! There you are, dearest. If you are rested, Eomer, perhaps Lothiriel would like a break from her hostessing and will dance the next with you.”

Thinking quickly, Eomer answered, “That would be an honor, indeed, but I was just thinking I would retire this evening. It has been a long day and my stomach is still a little distressed. The dancing did not help.”

It only just avoided being rude, at least it did if his reasons had been legitimate. Lothiriel’s smile never faltered as she assured him he was making a wise choice. “Yes, do rest, my lord. We want you fully recovered before your return home.” Despite her words, though, he thought he detected a glimmer in her eyes. He couldn’t quite decide what emotion he was glimpsing, but at the very least she was annoyed with him, regardless of the words she spoke.

As there was no other option now but to depart, he offered her a bow, again apologized and exited as quickly as possible. Out in the cool hall, he sighed. This was not what he wanted, and he did not like being anything less than forthright. He had always believed that sheer determination could decide things, and that he therefore could overcome his feelings for Lothiriel simply by choice. It was not proving to be so simple, and he was beginning to fear he might never be free of his longing for her. If that were so, he wasn’t at all sure he could ever marry anyone. He could not pretend to love one woman in order to take her as his wife, when his heart belonged to another. All things considered, he might well live the remainder of his life alone and that was an incredibly depressing thought. 

The few times he had allowed himself to think beyond the War, and imagine their victory, he had always anticipated a wife and family around him. Despite little experience with children, he liked them and had hoped to have several of his own. Now all of that seemed an impossible dream.

He engaged a passing servant to bring some wine to his room. He thought it very possible that sleep would not come readily this night.

xxxxx

The next day, Eomer sequestered himself in his room. He carried a small table over near the window and planned their route for home. If he had thought to be left alone there, it did not work – at least not where his sister was concerned. A servant had brought him breakfast in his room, but less than an hour after the morning meal would have ended downstairs, Eowyn turned up at his door.

When he opened it to see who was there, she stood with arms crossed, scowling at him. “Why are you hiding in here?” she demanded without preamble.

“I am not hiding,” he said, turning away to resume his seat at the table. “I have work to do and this room is both pleasant and quiet.”

“How convenient!” Eowyn retorted with disbelief, though she did not pursue the subject. As he sat back down and again turned his attention to the map Aragorn had given him, his sister began to walk around the room, silently looking at how it was furnished.

After several moments, she paused, pretending to examine the decorative mantelpiece as she casually ventured conversation. “We may see yet another marriage in the not so distant future.” Eowyn watched Eomer from the corner of her eye for his reaction.

Disinterestedly, he asked, “Who might that be?” He continued poring over the map without looking at her, hoping more than believing she would soon give up and go away.

“Lothiriel,” Eowyn answered, causing his head to jerk up.

“Indeed? I had not heard she was betrothed, nor seen evidence it would soon be,” he carefully responded, forcing his eyes back down to the map though he no longer saw it.

“No, but Faramir tells me that Imrahil has met with a handful of suitors who seek to court her. Surely one of them will find favor with her,” Eowyn told him, still pretending not to watch him though she was.

“It is hardly a question of their finding favor with her. Gondorians are fond of their marriages for alliance and advantage,” Eomer remarked disdainfully, and with more than a little regret. He had thought he wanted this, but he could not like hearing it come to pass. “Had you not been so appropriate a match, likely even Faramir would have felt pressure to find someone better suited. No doubt Imrahil’s children will meet such a fate.” He quelled the bile rising in his throat at the thought of Lothiriel wed to another. He _would_ conquer this infatuation!

“Not so!” Eowyn argued. “Faramir would not have yielded to such pressures, and Lothiriel told me that she and her brothers are safe from it.” At Eomer’s eyebrow lifted in skepticism, she explained further, “Their parents married for love rather than duty, and Imrahil was inconsolable when Sirrin died. He vowed then to allow his children to seek happiness rather than a treaty in their unions. While Denethor lived, the steward was pressing him otherwise, but fortunately Lothiriel was too young and no promises were made. With Denethor’s death, they are free to choose whom they will wed.”

“Perhaps to a certain extent,” Eomer allowed, then shook his head, “but do you truly believe the suit of a stable boy or farmer, cook or shopkeeper, would be welcomed? I very much doubt it. They may seek happiness in a marriage partner, but only within acceptable boundaries, I am sure. They are children of a Prince. You will not see them wed to a Swan Knight or a shopkeeper’s daughter!”

Eowyn’s eyes narrowed. “And does that mean that you will need to form a marriage alliance on Theodred’s behalf, Brother?”

“Me? I am just a soldier. I offer no political or social advantage other than being somewhat related to the king,” Eomer scoffed. “And Theodred would never ask such a thing. That is not how we do things in the Mark, and you know it.”

“So, what you are saying, _Brother_ , is that in marrying me, you believe the Steward of Gondor and the Prince of Ithilien has wed far below his station! You and I are of equal rank, as are Faramir and Lothiriel, if Faramir is not somewhat higher now that he is a Prince. If you say you are unworthy to approach Lothiriel, then you also say I am unworthy of Faramir! It is that simple!” Eowyn declared frostily, fixing him with an icy glare. “If you believe that, Eomer, then Firefoot has dropped you on your head one too many times, and left you bereft of your senses!”

Eomer blinked at his sister in surprise, not having expected her fervent response. Pressing her advantage, Eowyn continued, “Our mother was the daughter of the king of Rohan, Eomer, and our father was also descended from kings! Though you may serve your king as a ‘soldier’ you are one of the highest ranking noblemen in all the Riddermark! Do not demean yourself so!”

In the face of Eowyn’s outrage, and surprisingly effective arguments, Eomer had no reasonable response. Of course he did not think his sister unworthy of Faramir – if anything, he thought the reverse! And if that was so, what had he to be ashamed of? Perhaps the manners of the nobility were different in the Mark, but that did not necessarily make them inferior. And he could not truly say that Imrahil or Aragorn either one had shown any disdain or disapproval of them. For that matter, neither had Lothiriel. Could she be persuaded to consider him? An uncomfortable niggling in the back of his mind reminded him that perhaps she had already considered him, but met only his rebuff. Would she be willing to forgive his folly and reconsider?

Suddenly his face grew warm as he realized that Eowyn had turned the conversation from casual mention of Lothiriel’s suitors to insinuating him as a suitor. Did she suspect something? A glance at her face made him think she did. Carefully he questioned, “And why are we even having this conversation? What concern is it of ours who Imrahil’s children marry?”

Eowyn threw up her arms in frustration. “You are so pig-headed, Eomer! Retaleoth was right – you are completely smitten with her and too stubborn to admit it! Had I not been so occupied preparing for the funeral, and then Retaleoth’s and my own weddings, I should have seen it for myself. You cannot keep your eyes from her and yet you will not approach. I have never known you to be so timid about going after what you want!”

He swallowed hard, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Finally, he rose quickly and moved for the door. “I do not have time to discuss this right now. I will see you at supper.” He was out the door before she could protest. Above all else, he needed time alone so he could think. Within minutes he had Firefoot saddled and was riding along the seashore. A good brisk gallop invigorated them both, and then he drew the stallion to a walk as Eowyn’s words returned to fill his mind. No, he had never before been timid in going after what he wanted, but this was different. Or was it? All Eowyn’s points had merit, and more than that she was friendly with Lothiriel. He did not believe his sister would be encouraging him to pursue a woman she thought would reject him.

The full realization of his folly began to sink in and he gave a groan. Had he thrown away any chance for happiness through his own short-sightedness? He had never questioned his own worth before this. Only when faced with this incredible woman of Dol Amroth had he seemingly taken leave of his senses and begun reacting irrationally. If she had made a choice against him, then his actions would have been warranted, but it was ridiculous for him to merely assume she would reject him. 

He rubbed a hand over his face even as he straightened with resolve. Perhaps she would still reject him; perhaps he had driven away any interest she might once have had. Either way, he would approach her and know of a surety. He still was not certain Imrahil would wish such an alliance for his daughter, though his friend would surely be polite in any resistance he offered. But maybe if Lothiriel was inclined he could be persuaded also? And what of her brothers – his friends? Would they lend support to his cause or oppose it, seeing as how it involved their sister? They had never given him reason to suppose they had any objections to him, but when it came to one’s sister, things might be more complicated.

He gave a growl of frustration, causing Firefoot to cock an ear back toward him. He wanted his life back the way that it had been – when he was sure of the things he said and did, without the second-guessing he found himself doing so much of lately.

Shoving his unruly thoughts aside, he turned Firefoot for another quick gallop before returning to the stable. In battle, you pressed on through your fear and doubt. He would do the same now – press on despite his uncertainty. It was the only way to reach a definite conclusion.

Once he was in the castle, however, Eomer was back to feeling awkward and uncertain. After so long of coolly avoiding her, he could hardly start behaving like an ardent suitor. When it was time for the midday meal, he went to the dining hall, but to his chagrin he learned that Lothiriel had gone to dine with her widowed aunt. If Erchirion and Amrothos noticed that he was distracted, they did not inquire as to the cause, and fortunately for him, Faramir and Eowyn had gone into town.

“You will be leaving tomorrow?” Erchirion asked, as they finished their meal.

Startled, Eomer looked up. He had forgotten that. If things went well with Lothiriel, then he would want to tarry longer, but if she had given him up as hopeless, he would be even more eager to depart as planned. “Perhaps,” he said evasively. “There are still a few things I must do, but possibly I will be ready by then.”

“Well, do not hurry on our account, my friend,” Imrahil said as he joined them. He had taken his meal at his desk in order to finish going over the ledgers with his steward. “We have been pleased to have you here with us, and have no desire to speed your leaving.”

“I thank you,” Eomer acknowledged, humbled by the warm regard being expressed. At least he knew Lothiriel’s father liked him as a friend. Hopefully that would count for something. “You have been most hospitable. In many ways, I think I prefer Dol Amroth to Minas Tirith. There is much stone, yes, but there is a…warmer feel to it. Perhaps because it is smaller and less grand.”

Imrahil smiled proudly. “I am glad you think so! We pride ourselves on being more relaxed than our northern jewel. There is much to recommend Minas Tirith, but I will take the seashore any time.”

As his friends began to drift away to their afternoon activities, Eomer escaped out to the garden behind the castle to consider his course of action. He must find a way to get Lothiriel alone, make apologies for his past behavior and seek to learn her inclination with regard to him – _or lack thereof_ , he thought with a sigh.

He had been there some time, leaning on the wall and staring out to sea, when a footfall behind him revealed the presence of another person. It was Lothiriel, and she hesitated when she saw him. She bit her lip briefly, and then moved to stand along the wall, a few feet away from him.

There was silence between them as Eomer frantically tried to find the words to speak at this unexpected encounter. He had been thinking he would not see her until supper, and so had been letting his thoughts wander rather than focusing on what he needed to say.

“Oh, I am sorry. Let me move over here,” Lothiriel said, breaking their silence, and going to stand on the other side of him.

Startled, and unsure of the reason for her behavior, he responded with his first thought, “Why?”

“It will make it easier for you to escape my company when you decide to excuse yourself. Though I wish I knew what it is you find so objectionable about me,” she answered evenly, slanting a glance at him for only an instant before turning her gaze toward the sea. Until now, she had always pretended not to notice his avoiding her, but no more. He must offer an explanation for his actions or they could never move forward.

Her words were like a kick in his stomach, causing him to wince, but he could not deny that he fully deserved such harshness. Eomer rubbed his face, heaving a sigh of both embarrassment and frustration. He had wondered what she made of his odd behavior toward her – it seemed he now had something of an answer.

“I am sorry if I have been too forward in your company, and made you uneasy, my lord,” she told him, all stiffly formal. “I shall endeavor to–”

“No, do not…apologize. You are not at fault in this,” he interrupted, searching for words of explanation. It took some time before something came to mind, though he did not consciously know what he would say until he heard himself speak. “Most of my life, I have known my place. I knew what to do and how to do it. I knew when I must ask and when I could demand. That was so until the day when I watched the Black Tower fall – then everything changed in an instant. It is like your seashore that shifts underfoot with the flow of the tides. It is difficult to find my footing, or know where to step next. Nothing is as it was, and I have lost my place.” He lapsed into silence, not sure he had given her any idea of his thoughts.

After several moments, she quietly observed, “The world is much changed for a great many people, my lord. You are not alone in this. And for many things we have no example to follow in our actions. Still, I cannot think the knowledge and skills we had before will not stand us in good stead now if properly reapplied.” She turned to look at him before adding, “You were a man who assessed people and situations, then made rational, decisive choices that could have far-reaching consequences. Can you not still do that?”

“The rules have changed. I look around me and I no longer recognize the landmarks,” he murmured, carefully not looking at her. Feeling he needed to offer a better explanation, he continued, “Renewed ties with Gondor makes all we do…different. We think outside our borders now, and even within them, we have a new king standing beside our first queen in many years. Marshals of the Mark do not have the same battles to fight as before. I am adrift and alone.” His voice had trailed softer until she was straining to hear his words.

When he fell silent, Lothiriel replied, “I overheard my brothers remark that you have good instincts. They of course meant on the battlefield, but even so, could you not apply that to other situations? Trust your feelings?”

Her voice had also dropped so low that it was almost a whisper, and something in it compelled Eomer to meet her gaze. There was an openness and honesty in her countenance that took his breath away – and there was something more… As he searched her expression and his own feelings, he definitely knew what his instincts were telling him, were even screaming at him.

Swallowing hard, his hand came up to brush back some hair that was blowing tauntingly across her face. He had meant to remove it without really touching her, but of its own volition his hand lightly grazed her cheek. A slow smile slid over her lips, and she reached up to catch his hand, pressing it to her face. Part of Eomer was thinking how rough his calloused hand must feel to her, while the rest of him could scarce breathe with the wondrousness of this moment he had never dared dream could come.

“I love you, Eomer of Rohan,” she told him softly. “For good or ill, and even if you do not wish it, but I cannot deny my heart.”

“Why would you even think of me?” he questioned, still not quite able to accept that he held her affection.

“Why would I not?” she instantly replied. “You must surely be one of the finest men I have ever known. You are brave and bold in battle, as well as kind and devoted as a friend. You are tender and caring as a brother, and a ready defender of those who are weaker. What is there not to admire? From the moment you so readily accepted Faramir’s suit for your sister, I knew that I wished to learn more of you.”

“But I am nothing like the noblemen of Gondor,” he pointed out, still not persuaded she understood the true circumstances. “I am not given to sitting about reading great tomes or whiling away hours over a chess board. I do not know how to follow genteel pursuits.”

“Indeed, you are not like them! And that pleases me greatly! I have never admired their preening or posturing. I prefer a man of substance and consequence, one who sees beyond the end of his own nose. I am convinced you are such a man. Certainly I judge your cousin to be so, and if the king is thus then why should not you be?

“Eomer, I do not care how anyone of Gondor views Rohan. Nor do I care if they approve of my…involvement with you. I will choose to love whomever I will, and even were my family to oppose it, I would fight for what I wanted.”

“Our _involvement_?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her choice of words and eliciting a blush.

“You…have not spoken of your intentions. I do not wish to be presumptuous in the matter,” she murmured, lowering her eyes.

Her brow knit in thought before she continued, “I know that most in Gondor’s nobility think idle pursuits are all that refined folk should engage in, but I prefer to be active and useful in my doings, and I readily admire those who better employ their time. I have never been what they wanted me to be, and I am far too outspoken for Gondor’s taste. Now that I have met people of the Mark, I am almost inclined to think I was born in the wrong place, for I feel much more at home with your ways than my own, Eomer.”

He suddenly realized that she had begun calling him by his name, and it sounded sweet to his ears. Here she was before him, looking exquisitely beautiful and accepting him with open heart, and yet something still held him back. Perhaps it was all the time he had spent keeping his distance, and now he wasn’t entirely sure how to irrevocably close that gap. 

Almost as if there had been a signal, they each turned to look out at the sea once more, leaning against the wall and not speaking. For several long moments they remained thus, until Eomer asked quietly, “What do we do now?”

“What…do you wish to do?” Lothiriel asked hesitantly, unsure whether her efforts had brought the desired result or not.

Eomer rubbed the back of his neck as he considered the question, then straightened decisively and turned to face her, reaching for her hands. “I wish to make the lady of Dol Amroth my wife, if she will have me. I wish to take her to my home in Aldburg, where we will live out our days raising horses and children, and traveling often to Edoras to make sure the king is keeping out of trouble. What say you, Lothiriel? Is this agreeable to you?”

A warm smile lit her face and she nodded, too choked up to speak for a moment. At length, she managed to say softly, “It is. Very much so.”

They stood smiling at one another until the awkwardness resurfaced, and Eomer reluctantly released her hands to lean against the wall once more. Despite the progress that had been made, there was still a great gulf between them that had not been breached.

Lothiriel likewise resumed her position at the wall, not looking at the man beside her, but after several moments of uncomfortable silence, she said quietly, “I had always _thought_ that when I accepted a proposal of marriage that the man offering for me might…” She paused, her cheeks pinking uncharacteristically.

“Yes?” Eomer prompted curiously, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. He was finding it difficult to be so near her, knowing she had agreed to the marriage, and yet have to behave circumspectly.

“I thought he might…kiss me,” Lothiriel said huskily, surprising even herself with her temerity. Outspokenness was one thing, but this was a step beyond anything she normally would have dared to say.

A grin tweaked Eomer’s mouth at her words, though he kept it in check and clasped his hands in front of him. “That would seem reasonable,” he responded. “Most men would be eager to act so…unless they were concerned that their actions might unfavorably color the woman’s opinion of them.”

Hearing the mirth in his voice, despite his efforts to hold it in, Lothiriel let out a slow breath of relief. “Understandable. However, this particular woman is more dismayed by the _lack_ of action than she would be by the expected action…” Her own mouth was now twitching with a smile at their byplay, but a rampant fluttering of butterflies had been set off in her stomach. She very much hoped this conversation was leading to the anticipated conclusion.

Eomer stood up straight and turned to gaze tenderly at her. After a moment, he carefully reached out a hand and slowly caught her by the waist. “It would seem that already I have disappointed you, my love.”

Her smile broadened. “Yes, but only a little. And there is ample time for you to make amends…if you wish.”

He drew her closer until she was pressed against him. Raising a hand to stroke through her hair, he murmured, “Oh, I very much wish it. I believe I have wished it since the day we first met.” 

He bent and grazed his lips over hers, smiling more as he felt a tremor run through her. Tired of waiting for what she wanted, Lothiriel slid her arms up around his neck and drew him to her. “Do not tarry so long in indecision,” she whispered. “You are marrying a most impatient woman!” And then she kissed him fervently, as though she could not get enough of him.

Eomer was not slow to respond to the prompting, scarce able to believe this was no longer a tormenting dream from which he must awake, but the actual thing. When it ended, both could do nothing more than hold one another. Eomer’s lips pressed a trail of light kisses along the side of her head until he reached her ear, and then he murmured, “Do you suppose we will be made to marry by Gondorian standards or will the Rohan wedding suffice?”

Lothiriel laughed, drawing back to look in his eyes. “Believe me, my love, Father will find me most disagreeable for the duration if he attempts to make me wait a year to wed you! Already we have waited a year since first meeting, and I deem that sufficient. Besides, if I am to be a bride of Rohan then I should marry according to the dictates of Rohan’s laws.”

“I shall speak to him at once and do all that I can to persuade him,” Eomer avowed, though a crease of worry formed on his forehead.

“What is wrong?” Lothiriel asked, noticing his changed expression.

“You may be amenable to the idea of marrying me, but I do not know that your father will be also,” he admitted.

A guilty look stole over Lothiriel’s face and Eomer did not miss it. “What is it that you have not told me?” he questioned, holding her tight when she tried to draw away from his embrace.

Ducking her head to hide her face, she murmured, “Theodred has already approached Father and obtained his permission for us to marry…”

“What!” Eomer released her and stepped back, stunned at this announcement. “Are you serious?”

She nodded sheepishly. “He did not want to encourage you to pursue me if Father would not agree to it. Once he knew that both Father and I did not object to your suit, then he felt justified in pushing you to act.”

“My cousin is a meddling busybody, even if he is my king!” Eomer declared with a growl, though there was amusement reflected in his eyes.

“True, but would you have ever acted on your own without his efforts?” Lothiriel asked. “You needed his meddling to make you do what you wanted to do all along.”

Eomer drew her close once more and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Probably so, and if it means that I may hold you in my arms and kiss you, then I am grateful.” Then his mouth tweaked into a grin as he added, “Which is not to say that I will not give Theodred much grief over his presumption in the matter!”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 (begins 7 May, 3020 III)

They lost track of the time and were late coming to the supper table, though no one appeared concerned. In fact, Eomer would swear Eowyn wore a pleased smirk whenever she thought he wasn’t looking in her direction. That could only mean they had been spotted in the garden and assumptions – correct ones – had been made. No doubt his sister would be taking all the credit of it as well. Just to annoy her, he made no reference to his change in situation, and pretended to take no particular notice of Lothiriel, difficult though it was to accomplish. Fortunately, Eowyn sat in the opposite direction from Lothiriel at the table, so when he did look at the latter, Eowyn could not see his eyes. He was certain they would give him away if she could.

His efforts had the desired effect, for Eowyn was fairly twitching with curiosity by the end of the meal. She waited for him to request an audience with Imrahil, but instead, he announced, “I am rather weary this evening. Perhaps I will retire early.”

Unable to restrain herself, Eowyn exclaimed, “Eomer!” 

There was an entire tirade put into that single word, but he managed to hold his countenance as he raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction. “Yes, Eowyn?”

She was so irritated, she couldn’t form words, but Lothiriel was consumed with laughter just then and saved her the trouble. “Do not torment your sister so!” Lothiriel chided him. “She only wishes your happiness.”

“Actually,” Eomer replied, glancing pointedly at Eowyn, “she is as meddlesome as my cousin, but since I am the one who will benefit, she shall get a reprieve. My dear friend Imrahil – may I speak with you privately?”

Clearly Imrahil was in no doubt as to the nature of the conversation. “But of course, Eomer. Come with me to my study.” Rising from the table, he added to their companions, “If you will excuse us.” 

The rest of their number did not argue about their departure and all were grinning like fools, causing Eomer to roll his eyes. Was everyone in on it?

Despite his professed annoyance with Eowyn, the battle of wills they had engaged in over supper had helped ease his tension about this moment. He reminded himself that Imrahil had already agreed to this match in theory, and now had only to formally acknowledge his approval.

The Prince moved directly to the sideboard and poured them each a goblet of wine. After handing one to Eomer, he sat in a comfortable chair and crossed his legs, looking expectantly at the young man. “You have something you would discuss with me?” he prompted.

Eomer nodded, slowly seating himself in a chair that he drew to face the older man. “I realize I am not the first to broach this subject with you, but I…should very much wish to wed your daughter. I swear I will do all in my power to make her happy for the remainder of her life.” Perhaps a little direct and succinct, but since they both knew what was to be said on each side, there seemed little reason to draw this out unnecessarily.

Imrahil nodded. “I am very pleased to hear it. I understand that you have had some reservations about how both Lothiriel and I would respond to your proposal, and I can assure you that neither of us finds you wanting in any way. There are differences between our cultures, it is true, but you are an honorable man, a devoted friend and, most importantly of all, you have won Lothiriel’s heart. I could not ask for more.”

Eomer swallowed hard, before answering huskily. “I thank you. That is most kind of you to say.”

“Not kind,” Imrahil corrected. “It is the truth. And, now then, I am thinking we should discuss the arrangements sooner rather than later, considering the situation.”

“Yes,” Eomer acknowledged. “I…if you have no objections, I hope to marry Lothiriel and take her home with me when I depart. It is the way of the Eorlingas to wed within a sennight of the announcement. Eowyn is already here and so I would have family with me, though I will be sorry that Theodred cannot join us as well. But I think it best not to drag him from Rohan again so soon after his return and his marriage. The same is true of Aragorn. However, I do not know what you and Lothiriel will deem essential.”

For several minutes, Imrahil contemplated his request. Finally, he replied, “Being as Lothiriel is _my_ daughter, it is somewhat more complicated from our view. I have little doubt Gondor will be scandalized by the quickness of the wedding, though likely they will not be surprised at Lothiriel’s agreeing to it! She has never particularly catered to their views of rigid behavior. As Prince of this realm, I am able to perform the marriage, so that is not an issue, but our people would wish for a bit of pomp and festivity to the occasion. Therefore, if you will agree, we will fix the date for next week, and I will set the household to preparing for the wedding and feast – perhaps on the fifteenth?”

“As you wish,” Eomer told him, “and if Lothiriel approves. Tell me whatever you need me to do for my part.”

Deciding it might be wise to call Lothiriel in to join them, neither was much surprised that she was lingering outside the study. The three set about planning what they wanted in addition to what was probably needed. “It is a little thing, but our people are fond of the royal daughter,” Imrahil told them, “and why should we not indulge them in celebrating this event? Certainly it brings us great happiness.”

xxx

Just before dawn the next morning, firm knocking at his door awakened Eomer, and he stumbled over to find his betrothed smiling at him, apparently enjoying finding him tousled and half-clothed. “Dress quickly and we will go for a ride on the shore before breakfast. I would very much like to watch the sunrise with you!” she told him, hurrying off without giving him an opportunity to protest.

Not that he would have, he admitted to himself as he pulled on clothing and brushed out his hair, securing it back with a leather tie. He was out the door in less than a quarter of an hour, finding Lothiriel waiting in the entrance hall for him. Together they made their way to the stable, his arm about her shoulders, until they separated to ready their horses. 

Lothiriel led the way down a guarded path to the family’s private beach. The morning was growing lighter, but the sun had not yet cleared the horizon, so all was still in shadow. They were not on the shore long, enjoying a leisurely canter in the surf, when finally the first rays shone forth and they pulled to a stop to sit side-by-side and watch in silence.

“At last,” Lothiriel murmured, causing Eomer to glance questioningly at her. For several moments she did not explain, though she could feel his eyes on her and knew he wished her to do so. At length, she elaborated, “I believe I began to love you almost from the beginning. All around me, people were finding love and marrying, so I had hoped for the same – and…desired that it be with you. But then as time went on, and you steadfastly turned me away, I began to think my feelings were one-sided. I had begun to despair of finding happiness with you until Theodred approached me, and assured me of your regard. And even then it has been difficult to stay optimistic about the outcome – you were so determined that it would not be.”

Eomer sighed. “I am sorry for that, my love. You cannot know what torture it was for me. I did not avoid you because I did not want you, but rather because I did, and thought I could never have you. My only recourse seemed to be staying as far from your company as possible and hoping it would pass.” He paused, gazing at the sun rising more fully now, and then added, “I hoped I would one day free myself of my feelings for you, but I had reached the conclusion that I would end up alone and unmarried if I could not have you. I would not have inflicted myself on someone else while you held my heart.”

It thrilled her to hear his words, so long wished for, and she reached to take his hand. “Let us speak no more of it then. Our pain is now past and we are together, just as we both desired. The future is bright.”

Smiling, his eyes crinkling with pleasure, he leaned and kissed her, only giving up her lips when Firefoot shifted restlessly away from the other horse. “I do hope Gondor has no strictures about a man kissing his betrothed. I am not sure I would be able to yield to such a nuisance!” he teased.

She laughed gaily. “They disapprove of overt affection being displayed, it is true, but they have come to expect my ignoring their dictates in such matters! Likely they will mostly be embarrassed that I am ruining your good opinion of all of Gondor with my wanton behavior!”

“Indeed – wanton behavior? That sounds promising!” he chuckled. “Rather than ruining my good opinion, it may in fact secure my undying favor!” Urging Firefoot forward, he led the way in another brisk gallop before they returned to the castle to eat.

xx

At mid-morning, Imrahil announced his daughter’s betrothal from the steps of the castle, and criers went into the city to spread the word. Those that had learned of and gathered for the Prince’s announcement had seemed surprised, but readily cheered Lothiriel and her chosen husband. Eomer was well-known among the Swan Knights for his deeds on the Pelennor, and thus much had been spoken of him when he visited Dol Amroth.

Once the crowd began to disperse and all made their way back inside, Lothiriel had to excuse herself to attend to household matters, and Imrahil returned to his study to make arrangements with his steward for supplies that needed procuring. Not having any place he particularly needed to be, and his business at Dol Amroth already concluded, Eomer thought he might wander about town and see if he could find a gift of some sort for his bride-to-be. It was customary in the Mark to give one’s wife a gift on the morning after their wedding, upon waking, and he thought it would be appropriate for something of Dol Amroth that she could take with her to her new home.

Eowyn confronted him as he started for the stairs, headed back to his room. “What will you wear for the wedding?” she demanded more than asked.

“Clothes, I would think,” he replied with a smirk.

She gave him a glare of warning, and shook her finger in his face. “You will be representing the Mark, and marrying one of the highest nobility of Dol Amroth, Eomer. You will not embarrass me or Theodred by dressing inappropriately! Why not wear what you had on for my wedding?”

“Eowyn!” he exclaimed in frustration, “I did not bring everything with me that I had in Mundburg! I sent most of my finery home with Theodred rather than pack it along on a scouting trip!” This wasn’t entirely true; he had brought some fine clothes in order to meet with the trade merchants, but she was being so domineering he chose not to tell her that.

Turning on her heel, she started up the stairs, directing him, “Come! Let us see what you have and whether it is sufficient. If not I will have to see to buying something or having something sewn for you. There is not a moment to lose.”

“Yes, Eowyn,” he said in his most beleaguered, long-suffering voice, giving a sigh. She was like a dog with a bone, and he knew she would not stop until she was satisfied with his attire.

Lothiriel found them still going through his things when it was time for dinner; at least Eowyn was – Eomer was slouched in a chair and looking thoroughly bored. She briefly joined Eowyn in considering the options, and the two decided he needed a nicer tunic and new ceremonial cape for the occasion, so they made plans to do some shopping that afternoon. Knowing that, Eomer decided he had best wait for his own venture into town.

Activity bustled and swirled around Eomer the rest of the day and into the next. He largely felt useless to the endeavor, but knew not what help he could offer. Weddings were not something he had ever spent much time considering. You showed up at the appointed time and place, spoke the words and the deed was done. Clearly, however, it was not that simple from a woman’s perspective, so he merely tried to keep out of the way. Fortunately, Amrothos agreed to accompany him the next afternoon, and show him some things he thought Lothiriel might like.

Eomer was rather relieved to escape all the turmoil of the castle. “I have seen nothing like this!” he confessed to his friend. “Even when Theodred wed it was not so frenzied and…grand! And I managed to steer clear of most involvement with Eowyn’s preparations.” 

Amrothos chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “It will all be over soon enough. Just think how much worse it would be if they had even longer to drag out the planning of it! Could you endure this sort of activity for months on end? I know I could not!”

“So long as the end result is Lothiriel as my wife, I will manage, but it seems a great deal of fuss to achieve that,” he avowed. 

Amrothos steered him into a shop just then and their attention turned to other matters. They visited many more shops before Eomer found anything that appealed to him as a gift. 

A merchant showed him a flat piece of driftwood, worn smooth by the tides, that had a seahorse carved in relief on its face, which was then painted white to make it stand out even more. It had been suspended on a silver chain to enable the owner to wear it upon the breast. The blending of horse and ocean life seemed most appropriate to commemorate the joining of Rohan and Dol Amroth. When Amrothos saw what he held, he nodded approval. “She is certain to love it, my friend. An excellent choice.”

Once it was purchased and securely wrapped in cloth, he tucked it safely away, satisfied with the outcome of their venture. It was decided they would walk along the wharf for a while before returning to the castle. Though unsaid, both knew it was more from a desire to avoid the confusion there than a particular wish to see the harbor and the ships bobbing in it.

xx

Erchirion and Amrothos fortunately took it upon themselves to keep Eomer occupied over the next few days. With all that needed doing in preparation for the festivities, he was underfoot more than anything and had little to keep him busy. He would have liked to spend more time with Lothiriel, but much of her day was spent overseeing the household as well as preparing her belongings to be taken with them. It had been decided that she would pack a modest amount for the actual journey over the Dimholt, and the rest would be sent by boat to Minas Tirith and then overland from there. As they did not know all that they would encounter passing over the mountain, they did not want to travel too encumbered.

Eomer also had to make time for a couple of fittings on the clothing Eowyn was having prepared for the wedding, and Imrahil walked him through the brief ceremony that would take place, familiarizing him with the wording of the vows and all that he would need to do for his part.

In and around it all, he was pleased that Lothiriel did make time in the evenings for them to spend quietly talking and coming to know one another better. For all the time they had spent in each other’s company, they had not spoken a great deal of things of consequence. It amazed Eomer how much knowing her better only increased his regard for her. He had been right to avoid her when he thought her unattainable – any closer acquaintance and he would have been hopelessly lost to his feelings.

And then, at last, the day arrived. The wedding was scheduled for mid-afternoon, so the gentlemen went for an extended ride in the country round about. As Eowyn was much involved in helping Lothiriel prepare, Faramir joined them and it turned into a very pleasant outing. The two brothers were well familiar with their country and enjoyed showing it to their cousin and Eomer, and it distracted the latter from his nerves about the occasion. Normally he was not given to anxiety, but this whole affair had become much grander than he had expected, and he did not wish to embarrass his bride with any rough manners.

They returned shortly before noon, to eat and allow Eomer time for a bath. He was not particularly dirty, but he did not want the smell of horse to prevail at the event. He soaked for some time in the large sunken bath in his room, reluctantly forsaking it when the water was long cooled. There was nearly an hour still remaining before the ceremony, and so he paced the room to relieve his tension, preferring not to dress too soon and have to protect the clothing from mishap. 

At length, Faramir appeared and helped him with his preparations, all the while talking of mundane matters to distract his brother-in-law. They finished only a few minutes before it was time to go, and Faramir stepped back to look him over appraisingly. After a moment, he chuckled. “Yes, I think you will do. I see nothing amiss that will get either of us in trouble with your sister!”

The remark bled off some of Eomer’s tension, and he laughed also. “That will be an accomplishment, indeed! She has trained you well in so short a time!”

At the appointed hour, they made their way to the library. The wedding itself was to take place on the front terrace of the castle, and townspeople had been crowding into the plaza for the last couple of hours. They had returned to the castle from the stable by a secluded passage available only to the royal family, as it would have taken too long to pass through the well-wishers. A few swallows of wine further relaxed Eomer, and when the call came to begin, he took a deep breath and followed Faramir to the terrace.

A cheer went up at the sight of him, causing a smile to tweak his mouth, but Faramir was positioning him near Imrahil and he had no time to think on it. And then the whole of the crowd seemed to wait in hushed silence for Lothiriel’s appearance. Eomer wasn’t sure where to look for her entrance – whether it would be through the same door he had used or another, so his eyes flicked around trying to catch the earliest glimpse possible.

A movement to his right drew his attention there, and the great front door slowly swung open as the musicians began a lovely romantic melody to accompany Lothiriel to her place. The crowd was so overcome at the sight of her that they remained silent, and Eomer well understood why – she was magnificent! Could it be possible this gorgeous creature was to be his wife? Now he better understood how Aragorn must feel when looking at Arwen. 

The next moment, though, she flashed him a smile, a teasing glint lighting her eyes, and that was all it took for him to recover himself. This was the Lothiriel he knew, that he loved. She was very much a woman, and he had both held her in his arms and tasted her lips. 

She came to take her place before her father, who swallowed hard in an effort to control his emotions at the sight of her. She looked so much like her dear mother at this moment and it was almost more than he could bear.

The couple presented quite a contrast. Eomer stood tall and imposing, wearing the green and gold colors of the Mark, his golden hair shining in the sun. Beside him, Lothiriel was dark and beautiful in an Elvish way, seeming even more delicate next to such a man. As was traditional for those of highest birth, she wore a gown of dove gray, but shot through with silver threads that made it glisten brightly. A dark blue silken cape flowed from her shoulders, a silver swan in the center of it where it draped down her back. 

There was no disputing they were a handsome pair, but of most importance to Imrahil as a father was that there was deep love between them. He was something of a rarity among the nobility in that he had married for love rather than duty or advantage. His wife was of course quite acceptable to the Dol Amroth court, but that had not been a factor in his deciding on her as his bride. She had been lost to him much too soon, and he very much hoped that this couple standing before him would have a long life together.

Drawing his thoughts back to the matter at hand, he smiled at the two and then began the ceremony. Wedding vows, as such, were rather simple things. In contrast to all the planning and preparation, followed by the overall festivities that surrounded them, they were almost negligible, and thus were over in only a couple of minutes. Then Eomer was kissing Lothiriel for the first time as his wife, holding her as though she were the most precious thing in all of Middle-earth.

The audience had been silent during the vows, straining to catch every word, but now they loudly cheered their approval, and the noise of it at last separated the lovers. And then the celebrations began. Most of the townspeople would do their own celebrating in town, but many pressed forward to offer congratulations personally and to take the hand of the Prince’s daughter and her new husband. His arm firmly about her to keep her safe in the crush of people, the couple waded into the midst of their admirers to greet as many as they could.

“You know,” Faramir murmured, pressing a kiss to his wife’s temple as they stood watching from the terrace, “I do not believe I have ever seen you weep before this.”

Eowyn swiped at her face with embarrassment, hoping her husband had been the only one to notice her emotion. “It is not something I am given to doing, but I am so very happy for him. All my life he has cared for me, especially after the death of our parents. Finally he is thinking of himself and will have someone to look after _his_ needs.”

He drew her into his arms, understanding her sentiment. “Then it should please you to know that you had a hand in the happiness he has found. I do not think anyone else could have pressed him to action as you did, my love. Some day, looking back on it, he will be ever grateful for your involvement, I have no doubt.”

She laughed, looking up at Faramir. “Not that he is ever likely to confess it! We are an honest and plain-spoken people, but Eomer does enjoy tormenting his sister!”

Faramir raised a teasing eyebrow and asked, “And the same is not true in reverse?”

She smiled and ducked her head, laying it against his chest. “Aye, I must admit it is so!” Reluctantly she drew away to go and set things in motion for the dancing and dining that was to come, so Faramir went to join his cousins and uncle in witnessing the happy scene and receiving well-wishes of their own.

xxxxx

It was a dream. A delicious but piercingly painful dream. He would waken to find she was not snuggled against his side. They had not been married and he had not spent the previous night coming to know this incredible woman in every intimate detail. His eyes would open, the sun would shine and he would feel again the aching longing he had carried with him seemingly forever.

The bed shifted beside him and a warm hand slid across his chest. _Part of the dream_ , he reminded himself. I am not yet awake enough for it to dissipate.

The hand moved upward, gently brushing his hair back from his face. Even if it meant he would awaken, he had to open his eyes and try to see her as she had looked yesterday – and last night – radiant.

His eyelids flickered open, but the image he sought did not vanish. Instead, it smiled at him. “Good morning, my husband,” she whispered contentedly, placing a kiss on his shoulder before laying her head there. His arms automatically enfolded her without conscious direction from him.

It wasn’t a dream! The knowledge of that was almost too much to bear, and for several minutes he could not speak. Seeming to sense something amiss, she lifted her head and rose up on one elbow to gaze down at him. “Are you well, my love?”

Forcing himself to answer, he huskily told her, “I am more than well. I am wonderful.”

Her smile told him she understood what he had left unspoken, and her lips met his eagerly. Time enough for talk later.

Eventually, their day had to begin. Eomer knew it even as much as he regretted it. Not only that, he would need to consider the journey home. Theodred would begin to worry if Eomer did not return and no word was received. Well, at least that could be remedied. 

The first order of business, after breakfast in their room with his bride, was to send for two of his Riders. Handing them a hastily scribbled note, he instructed, “Deliver this to Theodred King, but do not mention anything of my marriage. I will tell him of that myself. Understood?”

“Yes, my lord,” Walda said with a grin. “You wish to surprise the king with the ‘trinket’ you bring home from your visit to Dol Amroth?”

Eomer chuckled. “Indeed! Now then, you have seen the map of the path through the Dimholt. Brenross will ride with you to set you on the correct road, this side of the mountain. After that you should have no difficulty, but keep a sharp eye all the same. We know little of this route.”

“And is it…safe, my lord?” Walda queried, a little nervously.

“Aragorn assures me it is so. The Dead are gone now, having fulfilled their oath to Gondor’s king. It should be nothing more than a passage through the mountains. Do not be concerned. I trust Aragorn’s word implicitly. He would not lead us into danger.”

When the Riders were gone, Lothiriel came in from the balcony, still fondly fingering the pendant necklace Eomer had given her at breakfast. They had spent the wedding night in the room where she had situated him upon his arrival at Dol Amroth, as it was separate enough from the main part of the castle as to be almost secluded. She moved behind him, wrapping her arms about his neck as he sat in a chair near the writing table. Pressing a kiss to his hair, she asked, “And how shall we spend our first day as husband and wife, love? Can I interest you in a walk along the shore? Soon we will leave, and I will have little further opportunity for such delights of home.”

He had grasped her arms as they encircled him, but now drew her around to sit on his lap where he had better access to shows of affection. “I can think of things I would rather do,” he murmured huskily, nuzzling at her neck, “but I suppose we must consider other activities as well, and likely our families will wish to see us at some point.”

She received his ministrations with pleasure, and their outing was deferred for a time as they renewed their love-making from the previous night.

Later, once more risen and dressed, they ventured forth to accept further congratulations and engaged in the stroll they had earlier discussed. Much of the walk was taken in silence, both content merely to share one another’s company in this peaceful setting. After a while, though, Lothiriel observed softly, “I will miss the sea. It is always the same and yet ever changing. One moment it ebbs and flows gently, and the next it is violent with storminess. But,” she added firmly, “I know I will come to love the Mark just as surely, and certainly I will enjoy the many long years spent coming to know you completely!”

He drew her into his embrace, considering her words, then told her, “If all goes as Theodred plans, the Dimholt will decrease the amount of time it takes to go between Rohan and Dol Amroth. We will make it a point to visit at least once a year. I would not deprive you of your former home and family here.”

She merely squeezed him more tightly in her arms without remark. If children came, as they both intended, that might prove a difficult promise to keep, but at present she was grateful for his determination in the matter.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEDDING DRESS COLOUR Most brides today marry in white which symbolises maidenhood. This tradition started by the rich in sixteenth century. The tradition was given a boost by Queen Victoria who chose to marry in white instead of silver which was the traditional colour of Royal brides. Before the white dress brides wore their best dress. The colour was a matter of preference. The following is a traditional rhyme offering advice on dress colour:  
> Married in White, you have chosen right,  
> Married in Blue, your love will always be true,  
> Married in Pearl, you will live in a whirl,  
> Married in Brown, you will live in town,  
> Married in Red, you will wish yourself dead,  
> Married in Yellow, ashamed of your fellow,  
> Married in Green, ashamed to be seen,  
> Married in Pink, your spirit will sink,  
> Married in Grey, you will go far away,  
> Married in Black, you will wish yourself back.
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> 


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12** (begins 17 May, 3020 III)

They lingered at Dol Amroth another three days before finally bidding their families farewell and setting out on the journey over the mountain. The distraction of his lovely bride riding beside him required Eomer to put forth considerable effort in forcing his attention to his duty of scouting the route on behalf of his king. Brenross left them once they had gained the road between Linhir and Ethring. They watched him returning back the way they had come, and Eomer mused, “Though this is the most direct route from Dol Amroth, I do not know that this way will accommodate much traffic. Perhaps your father will be amenable to widening and improving it in the future.”

“I am sure he will agree to any suggestions you offer, Eomer. Likely more has not been done already because we had little occasion to travel in this direction from the city – until now. But wait until we reach the end of our journey to form your recommendations. There may be other things we encounter that will influence your decisions,” Lothiriel counseled, causing Eomer to smile appreciatively at her wisdom.

Two Riders rode ahead, scouting out the road before them, and the remainder trailed some distance behind, affording them what privacy they could. Eomer appreciated the gesture, knowing full well it was normal to stay more closely grouped on such a venture as this. 

The company camped at Ethring on their fourth day of travel. There was a small inn within the town and Eomer seized the opportunity of taking a bed for the night with his bride. He knew she was not used to the rough nature of camping they were having to employ, and he thought a hot bath and soft bed might make some amends, though she had offered no complaints.

It took some time to heat and carry the water for her bath in the rather small tub that was provided, though she did seem to enjoy being able to refresh herself thus. Certainly he enjoyed watching her attend to the task! Supper was delayed as he restrained himself only until she stepped from the water, and then their attention was temporarily diverted from food.

Lothiriel’s muscles were gradually becoming used to riding for so long a time, though she still suffered some soreness and stiffness. It had become their usual routine each evening for him to provide a massage that eased her discomfort somewhat, though it generally led to more amorous pursuits. It was difficult to be intimate while dwelling in a small tent in a camp full of men, so the privacy afforded by a room was even more welcome to them, being so newly wed.

Eomer had been rather surprised that Lothiriel found his efforts at massage pleasing. He had feared his rough, calloused hands might be more annoying than helpful, but with a good measure from her supply of lotions, she professed to enjoy the treatment very much. Already she had promised to return the favor when they reached Aldburg, despite his having no particular need of it, and he had made no effort to decline the offer.

They reached the Stone of Erech two days later, and Lothiriel studied it curiously. She had long heard mention of it, but this was her first opportunity to actually see it. She related to their company all that she knew of the history, and of King Elessar’s gathering the Dead there and rallying their support against the Corsairs.

It was another full day before they arrived at the entrance to the path through the mountain, and even Lothiriel greeted it with some trepidation. Though not so familiar with the tales of it as the Rohirrim were, she was knowledgeable of the history. Just as Aragorn had said, they met no hazard along the way, and Eomer judged it would be wide enough for small wagons with only a little effort being applied to clear rocks off to the side to make for a smooth roadbed.

And then they exited the northern end and rode forth into Rohan via the valley of Harrowdale. Lothiriel gave a gasp at the glorious view they had from this vantage, as Eomer explained to her that this had been the encampment of those that retreated from Edoras during the War, led by Eowyn.

As it turned out, the switchback trail down the mountain which made the location so defensible was likely to be their major obstacle in the trade planning. It was not really wide enough for anything larger than small carts, and could not be altered further. Additionally, the sharp turns would be difficult to negotiate, and risk dumping a cart laden with goods over the steep sides. Considering this, Eomer realized they would probably have to arrange receiving and sending of goods from Dunharrow, and then pack them up and down the mountain on horses. That would limit the size of the goods they could transport over this route. Larger items would still need to come overland from Minas Tirith.

Lothiriel had kept silent as they passed a couple of the stone statues hunched at each turning of the zig-zag path, but by the third one, she could no longer contain her curiosity. “Eomer, what are these? Ancestors of the Rohirrim?”

“No. They were the Druedain who lived in the White Mountains long ago – in the First Age. They were driven out by the wicked Men of the Mountains. The Druedain were known for carving stone images of themselves, and they placed these here. Time and weather has worn away the features of their faces, but they did serve a useful purpose. The Orcs feared them and were reluctant to pass them to climb the mountain. We Eorlingas do not pay them much mind, but if they keep Orcs at bay then they are worthwhile.”

When they reached the next one after his explanation, she halted her horse and studied it more closely for a few moments, then told her husband, “I rather feel sorry for them. They look so…sorrowful, sitting here with unseeing eyes.”

He gave a small smile in response. “The Hobbit Merry said much the same thing.”

Rather than arrive at Edoras in the evening, they accepted the invitation of Dunhere’s widow to overnight in her home and continue their journey in the morning. As they had approached the manor house to pay their respects, Eomer told his wife of Lord Dunhere’s contributions, coming to the aid of Grimbold at the Isen but then perishing on the Pelennor. “He was a good friend,” Eomer said quietly. Then, to divert himself from morose thoughts, he added, “He was a nephew to Erkenbrand, whom you have met.”

Over supper, it was evident that Deorlyft was enjoying their visit immensely, and she subtly made several mentions that she would be glad to host them for more than a single night. At the time, they had declined, but by the next morning Eomer had changed his mind. He was up and dressing early, to advise Deorlyft of the change in plans and notify his company of the same.

“Should not you be getting to Edoras to report to the king?” Lothiriel asked, watching him dress.

“My meddling king can wait!” he replied with a grin. “After all, it is his own fault I am delayed! I would have been home nearly a fortnight sooner had he minded his own business and stayed out of mine.”

Lothiriel cast a reproving eye on him. “Come now, admit it! You should thank him for what he did! Would you have ever approached me without his ‘meddling’ to force your hand?”

He moved over to the bed, kneeling beside her to give her a fervent and lingering kiss. When it finally ended, he confessed, “Likely not, and I do thank him for that. But that is not to say I will not punish him all the same! He must know he cannot do with me as he pleases – king or not!”

She laughed as he stood again. “Very well. But as for me, I shall thank him profusely for his interference!” she retorted, sprawling back against the pillows.

“Aye,” he murmured, his gaze raking over her. “Aye,” he repeated, swallowing hard. “I must go. I will see you later, love.”

xx

Dunhere’s home lay near the foot of the mountain path to Dunharrow, in a quiet, secluded spot. Though the valley was well populated with homesteads, there was a sizeable amount of open land around the manor and Eomer took his bride for a long walk after the midday meal. With May nearly ended, sufficient warmth had come, even this close to the mountain, that the meadows were filled with wildflowers, and Lothiriel plied him with queries about those she did not recognize, as she gathered an armload to brighten Deorlyft’s house. Eventually, however, her thoughts turned to their journey. “We reach Edoras tomorrow?” she verified, presuming they would actually depart.

“Yes. We should be there by noon, if we start early enough,” Eomer replied, reaching for her hand and lifting it to his lips. Since their betrothal and subsequent wedding, he had found it difficult to resist the desire to be near her and touch her. He suspected a part of him still did not believe the truth of it, that she was his now and would not disappear upon waking. 

As Lothiriel had long desired such attention from him, she eagerly accepted his touches and glances, even encouraging them. In Gondor, such intimacy in view of others would be frowned upon, but Eowyn had told her the Mark was not so inhibited. She very much suspected that Eowyn would be taking her place in scandalizing staid Gondorian society with her behavior. Certainly Eowyn would do nothing too shocking and thus embarrass her husband or his position, but neither was she likely to hide who she was or ignore her own views and preferences. In that, Lothiriel thought it probable she would find an ally in Queen Arwen, who already had set her own standard for behavior. 

“And will we remain there long?” Lothiriel questioned, pursuing her previous thought.

“No, probably only overnight. I wish to take you to my home as my wife. Already I think Betersel likes you, but I would have her fully approve of my choice,” Eomer confessed with a rueful smile.

“Of course you would,” she reassured him. “She has been almost a mother to you these many years. It is only right that you include her in the special moments of your life. And know that I liked her very much when we met. I do not anticipate any difficulty.”

xx

They got the early start Eomer had desired and it was only a little while after dawn when they reached the crossroads, and continued on north. They passed through the two most sizeable towns of the valley, Underharrow and then Upbourn, only a mile apart, before beginning the final stretch to Edoras. It was evident the men were excited to be getting home after so long, breaking into singing shortly after they started out. It was now almost two months since they had departed the Mark for Eowyn’s wedding, and they had covered many leagues during that time.

As they approached the gate, Eothain moved forward to join the couple and commented, “Now we shall see how the king reacts to your wedding. I do not think he will be much surprised.”

Eomer grinned. “If he is, then he is a simpleton, considering all the effort he has put in to bring it to pass! However, I do not intend to grant him immediate satisfaction. With any luck I can sneak in unannounced and chastize him soundly before he realizes his success.”

Eothain laughed loudly at his intent, but Lothiriel scolded him. “You are too cruel! Theodred was only acting in your best interest, as you well know!”

The two laughed all the harder, but Eothain offered, “I will see to the horses and the baggage, my lord, so you may go straight in.”

Greetings were called out to them by many as they made their way up the main thoroughfare. It pleased Eomer that the people of Edoras seemed more cheerful as time went on. Successfully making it through the winter had helped, and then to have the king married had added to their optimism about the future.

The climb up the steps to Meduseld was quickly made. “Welcome back, Lord Eomer,” the door guards greeted him. “My lady,” they added, acknowledging Lothiriel on his arm.

“Thank you,” Eomer replied. “The King is here?”

“Yes, my lord. His steward will know where to find him,” they answered.

With a nod, he led Lothiriel into the dark interior, and made his way the length of the room. Fortunately for Lothiriel she was also tall, and her long legs enabled her to keep pace with her quick-moving husband. Swidhelm looked up at them and smiled. “My lord Eomer. Lady Lothiriel. Welcome,” he hailed.

“Thank you,” Eomer said absently. “Where is Theodred King?”

“He is in his study, my lord.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, lord.”

Inclining his head in acknowledgement, he led Lothiriel off in that direction, leaving her outside the door, not in view from the room though he did not close the door after knocking and entering without invitation.

“Eomer!” Theodred exclaimed, setting aside his annoyance at the unexpected intrusion. “At last! I was beginning to worry when I heard so little from you and you did not return sooner.” He rose and came around the desk to embrace his cousin.

After the greeting, Eomer stepped back and glared at him chastisingly. “I would have been home sooner had someone not littered my way with obstacles, mainly in the form of my sister determined to marry me off in Gondor!”

Theodred grinned unrepentantly. “Ah! And did Eowyn’s efforts succeed? Are you betrothed?”

“I am not,” Eomer assured him curtly.

Theodred let out a groan, returning to slouch in his chair and cover his face. “No! Tell me you did not leave Dol Amroth without a betrothal in place! Eomer! We gave you every opportunity!”

Eomer scowled at him again and reiterated, “I am not betrothed, nor do I intend to become so.” He moved toward the door, his arms folded determinedly over his chest. 

Stepping partly into the hall, as his cousin shook his head in disbelief, Eomer motioned for Lothiriel to join him and led her into the room, quite to Theodred’s astonishment. Before he could say anything, Eomer told him emphatically, “I am married. Please meet my wife, Lothiriel of Dol Amroth.”

For several moments, Theodred could do nothing more than blink in surprise, and then his face beamed with pleasure. “Excellent! I knew you were not a fool, much as you tried to pretend so of late!” The remark earned him another scowl from Eomer, but he ignored it to hurry forward and take Lothiriel’s hands. “My sincerest congratulations, Lothiriel!”

Unnoticed, Retaleoth had appeared in the doorway, and she now moved in to join them, smiling broadly. “Ah! Then our efforts were a success!”

Suddenly seeing the humor in it, Eomer broke into hearty laughter and the rest quickly joined him, as they settled into chairs to share all their news. Once the pleasantries were out of the way, it was clear that Theodred and Eomer were going to discuss his purpose for being in Dol Amroth, so Retaleoth rose. “Come, Lothiriel. I will show you to Eomer’s room and allow you to settle in. And perhaps we will need to make some adjustments to it so as to better accommodate his changed circumstance – and make it more agreeable to a lady!”

Laughing, Lothiriel rose to link arms with her as they exited, Eomer watching them go with a contented smile on his face. The look was not lost on Theodred. “It is good to see you at peace, my brother,” he said quietly. “I could not stand idly by and allow you to miss out on that if there was anything I could do in your support.”

xx

In some ways, it felt very strange to Eomer to be standing in the Hall of Meduseld with his wife at his side. _His wife!_ Such a glorious development! No matter what he was doing, if she was in the room his eyes sought her out, only now he need not conceal it or turn away as if disinterested.

He had been momentarily dumbfounded when he saw his bedchamber, rearranged by the ladies to include Lothiriel as a resident. It was the same, and yet very different. Small touches had softened the austere room, causing a smile to tug at his mouth. A jug of flowers sat on the dresser, and the stand for his armor no longer took precedence in the room. The chamber had been thoroughly cleaned and a hand-made comforter was now spread over the more functional sheets and blankets on his bed. Lothiriel’s hairbrush and a few other personal items rested next to his beside the flowers, and he went to finger them thoughtfully before taking another glance around the room. Perhaps more than anything, this brought home to him the reality of his new circumstance – he was married!

The couple lingered only the one day, enjoying the company of the royal family. Tilleoth in particular had been pleased to snuggle into Eomer’s lap, and have him tell her stories about the seashore as they examined the shells he had brought to her. It touched Lothiriel’s heart to see him thus. Hopefully soon they would have children of their own. She had no doubt Eomer would be a good father, for she had watched him with young Alphros and other children they had met in Dol Amroth who came forward to greet them.

Standing on the front terrace of Meduseld the next morning, they prepared to depart as soon as farewells were said.

“I am leaving now and taking my bride to her new home. I do not wish to be summoned for at least a month,” Eomer told his cousin firmly, pulling on his gloves.

“A month!” Theodred exclaimed, with feigned shock. “I think not!”

Linking arms with her husband, Retaleoth interjected, “I shall see it done, Eomer. Your king will leave you in peace!”

Theodred glared at her assertion and groused, “Not unless I am allowed to bring my own wife and join you in seclusion!”

Eomer chuckled in sympathy, then said, “By all means, join us whenever you are able to escape. You will find no finer doorward than Betersel. She excels at defending her chicks! She will even see to Tilleoth if you wish to bring her also.”

In his words, Theodred knew he was forgiven for his meddling and smiled at his cousin. Then the two men silently embraced. “I shall not disturb you, I promise,” Theodred told him quietly. “You have more than earned this time away.”

Eyeing the couple as they rode down the hill, Theodred murmured, “Why do I feel as though I watch a part of me riding away?”

“Because,” his wife said, pressing a kiss to his arm where it encircled in front of her shoulders, “in some ways Eomer is as a son to you. You have seen the second of your two chicks fly from the nest in quick succession. Now it will be our task to refill the basket!” 

He chuckled and looked down at her teasing tone. “With pleasure!” he replied, leaning to press a kiss to her delicious mouth.

As they returned inside, he smiled with contentment as he acknowledged to himself how well she had fit into his life. She had stepped into Eowyn’s place as lady of the Hall almost seamlessly. Though a few of the servants might have been hesitant in responding to her instructions, she soon had them in hand and he had often heard snatches of conversation indicating she was admired and respected.

Tilleoth, too, had been a joy to have here. For too long Meduseld had been a bastion of men and warriors. Now there was a woman’s touch softening it quite agreeably, and childish laughter gave it a feeling of homeyness. He knew his people were eager for an heir, and he was hardly less so. The future and strength of the Mark would lie in its children. All about him there were weddings and babies, and he very much wanted to join in their number. Half of that goal was achieved, and the other half being pleasantly attended to at every opportunity!

For many of the recent years, Theodred had spent more of his time in the Westfold than at Edoras. Threats of war and Grima’s growing influence had not made this feel much like his home. That was changing now, and he and Retaleoth counseled on how to improve it in that regard. Just as the people of the Mark were taking on new life, their homes and businesses also were gradually being freshened and the town reestablishing itself.

xxxxx

Surprisingly, Eomer felt a little nervous approaching Aldburg. His household had already met Lothiriel on one occasion, and seemed to like her, but whether they would desire her as their mistress could be another matter. He forced his worries aside – Lothiriel would win them over, he felt sure. She had said that she sometimes thought she should have been born in the Mark rather than in the more rigid environs of Gondor, and he well knew that she had a warm, appealing manner that drew people to her.

Much of the household again gathered in the yard at their arrival, though this time was quite different than the last. He had not sent word of his marriage on ahead, so his announcement would be a surprise to them all. Before he dismounted, he smiled at the group, and said, “I come bearing a great gift – may I present my wife, Lothiriel of Dol Amroth.” 

Involuntarily, he held his breath awaiting a response, and it was not long in coming. After a few startled looks and whispers, an enthusiastic cheer was given. Betersel stepped forward and gave him a knowing nod. “It is about time. Welcome, my lady. Now I need not hold my tongue, and may tell you much about Lord Eomer that I could not say when he only admired you from afar and would not acknowledge his feelings!”

Lothiriel snickered at the remark, caught off-guard by its straightforwardness, and Eomer scowled down at his housekeeper. “Keep your lies to yourself, old woman!”

She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest in challenge. For several moments they held a silent battle of wills until finally Eomer grinned. “I never could defeat you! Tell her whatever you wish! I am too happy to care!” 

He dismounted and swept Betersel into a startled embrace, causing her to blush. Before he released her, though, she said softly, for his ears only, “Well done, Eomer. She will be good for you, and I can see the joy in your eyes.”

He swallowed hard, and gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement at her approbation. “So, is there a meal I may provide to my wife? We ate little along the way and she tells me it is now my duty to see to such needs.”

Several chuckles erupted around them as the group began to disperse. Turning toward the house, Betersel waved them in. “I will have something prepared while you get settled.” Servants were stepping forward to take their horses and begin unloading their baggage, so Eomer helped his wife down and led her into the house on his arm.

Lothiriel had seen the house before, and been approving, but Eomer again looked at his home curiously as he wondered what her reaction would be. She did not keep him in suspense, seeming to sense that he would desire her opinion. “I know I told you this was a comfortable home, and good one in which to raise children, but I did not say how much I hoped to make it _my_ home! I am pleased you finally felt a similar inclination!” She grinned teasingly at him and he laughed.

“My inclination was never in doubt,” he told her firmly. “It was only my willingness to act on that inclination that was questionable.”

They spent nearly an hour settling into their room, trying to determine how to include Lothiriel and her belongings. When finally a servant came to inform them that the early supper was ready, they headed for the dining room, arm in arm. After seating his wife, Eomer took his chair while Lothiriel began to uncover the dishes. He raised a surprised eyebrow when she softly exclaimed, “Oh! Pork in that mushroom gravy that I liked so well last time we were here! How lovely!”

Betersel was just entering to make sure all was acceptable and Eomer cast a questioning look at her. “You managed, on such short notice, to produce one of her favorite foods?”

The housekeeper smirked at him in satisfaction. “I paid attention last time she was here, and noted her enjoyment of this dish. The pork was already at hand, and it was simple enough to make the gravy to go with it.”

Eomer shook his head in disbelief as he began to serve himself. “You never cease to amaze me, Betersel! My mother certainly knew what she was doing when she took you on.”

The couple enjoyed an agreeable meal, their first together in their home. Eomer found his gaze wandering frequently to his wife, unable to get enough of her presence here with him. After eating, they spent the remainder of the evening discussing possible changes to the household overall and their bedchamber in particular.

Both knew that Eomer would need to return to the business of the Mark the next day, despite what he had told Theodred. He was Marshal of the East-mark, and already he had been absent for nearly two months time. 

Eomer rose reluctantly from their bed at first light, following his normal habit. Though she had lingered in bed during the course of their marriage, when they had no specific plans, Lothiriel also was up and about to see him off and begin her day learning of her new domain.

Betersel brought them a tray of breakfast before they could leave the room, and they were able to dine in private. “She is very thoughtful,” Lothiriel observed, sipping her tea. “I must thank her for allowing me this one final intimacy with you before we fall into some sort of usual routine. For a little longer, we are ‘just wed’ and the world is of no consequence to us!”

Eomer grinned. “Aye!” Then he pensively added, “Betersel has always been a blessing to us, though I do not think I fully appreciated her until I was much older and returned from Edoras to live here again. We visited occasionally, when Uncle or Theodred would travel and come this way, bringing me and Eowyn along, but we were too concerned with seeing our old friends in the town to think much about the household staff. Only when I became master of the house did I come to realize all she did in making things run smoothly, and see to my needs before I even knew I had them.”

At length, there was no avoiding the separation, so Eomer kissed her goodbye and set off. Taking the tray with her, Lothiriel reported to the kitchen, to find Betersel and start her own day. 

Though each kept busy for the next few hours, Eomer found his thoughts turning to his bride with taunting persistence. He tried to keep the thoughts at bay and focus on what needed doing, reminding himself he would see her soon enough. By late morning, he had returned to the house, heading straight for his study. He shuffled through some papers, and began a letter to Theodred reporting on his morning activities, but his mind would not settle. Not entirely sure what he was looking for, he wandered upstairs to his bedchamber.

He had not expected to find his wife there, but she was presently seeing the room cleaned and rearranged. She looked up, offering a warm smile as he entered, and he returned it while trying to conceal his embarrassment. Idly he wandered to a desk that stood in the corner and pretended to look through the contents of the drawers. 

Though seeming to take no particular notice of him, Lothiriel told the servants, “Let us finish this after dinner. I am in need of a rest from our labors.” She watched them leave, closing the door behind them and then turned to her husband, and asked with a glitter of amusement in her eyes, “Is there a reason you are here, my love?”

Eomer hesitated, not looking at her as he tried to come up with a sensible explanation for his behavior, but finally shrugged and sheepishly told her, “No, I suppose not. I am just…restless.” His voice trailed softer and he looked around before adding, “I can scarce believe that you are here, and you are mine. I suppose I am just come to reassure myself it is not a dream.” He dropped his head with embarrassment, waiting for her response.

“I thought as much,” she murmured, moving over to stand in front of him. “That is reason enough, and you are welcome at any time!” 

Instantly he stepped closer to Lothiriel, and her hand moved to tenderly stroke his cheek, before pausing along his chin as her thumb brushed over his lips. “Yes, very welcome indeed!”

He needed no further prompting, and drew her into a kiss. In that instant he knew what he had been seeking. Perhaps in time it would not always seem so urgent that he have his wife near and often in his arms, but he rather hoped the desire for it would never entirely go away.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
>   
> Footnotes: There is nothing definite given in Tolkien as to how long it would take to go from Edoras to Dol Amroth via the Paths of the Dead. I noted what passages of time were given for certain stretches of some of it, allowing for Aragorn to be traveling in a hurry as opposed to a more leisurely pace by the average traveler, and then I just had to guess on the remainder. There is also a website that gives some distances they have culled from various Tolkien sources that I used for part of this. Keep in mind that there is no evidence of a substantial road from Ethring to Dol Amroth. In fact there is no indication of a road going directly to Dol Amroth at all, though likely there is at least some sort of path that is frequently used. But how quickly it could be traveled is uncertain. **[That said, further research has led me to conclude that the Paths of the Dead is not a viable travel route on a routine basis. It was necessary for Aragorn, but unlikely one others would choose unless they had no other choice.]**
> 
> Edoras to Paths of Dead (up winding mtn road to entrance) - ?? - poss. 1 day  
> Paths (“from dawn to two hours before sunset” – abt 10 hrs?) - so, 1 day  
> exit Paths to Stone of Erech (“2 hrs before sunset until midnight”) - so, 8 hrs/1 day  
> Erech to Ethring (by road)(poss. abt 100 mi) - so, abt 2 days  
> Ethring to Edhellond (follow River Ringlo, abt 130 mi) - abt 3 days (1.5-4 da)  
> Edhellond to Dol Amroth (abt 50-65 mi, along beach) - abt 1 day (6 hr-2.5 da)  
> TOTAL = abt 9 days (Aragorn started on the Paths on 8 Mar and reached Pelargir on 13 Mar – about 5.5 days)


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13** (begins early June, 3020 III)

It did not take long for Lothiriel to settle into her new home. Betersel was most welcoming and always ready to guide and inform whenever needed. For Lothiriel’s part, she was inclined to continue having Betersel direct the household staff as before, recognizing the worth of a good head housekeeper for maintaining order. They counseled together as to Eomer and Lothiriel’s wishes, and then Betersel saw them implemented.

Fortunately for Lothiriel, she was well accustomed to meeting new people, of every station, and that stood her in good stead. On her walks about the town, alone or in company with Eomer or Betersel, the townspeople were eager to meet the Lord Marshal’s new wife and extend their felicitations. If any were wary of her being from Gondor, they gave no indication and it was not long before she could call many by name whom she passed in the streets.

Similarly, in Edoras, Retaleoth was making her own place. In addition to her duties directing the household, Retaleoth had chosen to focus much of her time and energy on seeing to the widows and orphans of the town. She had a special interest in their welfare, and worked hard at finding them homes and employment of some kind to enable them to provide for themselves and their families. In that endeavor, she had Theodred’s full support. “You do whatever you wish,” he told her firmly. “I trust your judgement, and you know well enough the difficulties that might hamper your intentions. We will think of some way to overcome the obstacles.”

Not one to stand idly by and have others do for her, she had readily planned things out, even down to determining how goods could be obtained for the least expense. In many ways, she was grateful for that additional occupation as the months went by and she was not blessed with a child. 

It was at the Harvest Festival that Eomer and Lothiriel told them of the expected birth of their first child. Though very happy for them, Retaleoth also felt that she had failed Theodred.

On a visit to Aldburg later in the Fall, she sat taking tea with Lothiriel and confided as much to the other woman with whom she had become quite close. “Above all things, I know the Mark hoped a Queen would mean an heir. And yet it is not so. I do not wish to disappoint Theodred, or our people.”

“It is early in your marriage,” Lothiriel reassured her. “Children come when they choose and not at our bidding. Some couples go for several years after they wed before receiving such a blessing. Do not worry overly much about it. You are well loved, with or without an heir in your arms.”

Retaleoth smiled gratefully at her, and nodded. “Thank you. I will try to be patient. Perhaps we try too hard and overtax ourselves. I confess, when my husband was killed, I never thought to have any other children after Tilleoth. To love again and have another chance at marriage and children was a blessing unimagined. Yes, I will be patient.”

xxxxx

Whatever misgivings Retaleoth had about her own childless state, she delighted in helping Lothiriel prepare for the blessed event. Tilleoth usually accompanied her on visits to Aldburg, and plied both of the women with questions about babies and the cousin she might soon expect. Although Retaleoth was sure that Eomer very much wanted a son, and Lothiriel would be pleased to give him such, Tilleoth made it very clear that she wished for a female cousin with whom she could play.

As Lothiriel’s due date neared, once the celebration was over marking the change from the Third Age to the Fourth Age in late March, Retaleoth determined to go and be with Lothiriel at Aldburg until the baby was born.

“I _must_ go, my love,” she told Theodred. “It is her first child and she is far from home and family here. She should have someone near whom she knows well. As soon as she begins her travail, I will have Eomer send word so you can be there to welcome their child.”

Theodred sighed as he released her from his embrace. “I will miss you – in my arms and in our bed, as well as your mere presence in my house. But you are right. You should be there with Lothiriel. I will join you later. Oh, and do not be too hard on Eomer when the time comes. I have no doubt he will be out of his mind with worry!”

She laughed and gave him a final kiss. “True, but then most men are that way! You would be just the same.” Reluctantly they stepped away from one another, and Theodred went to collect Tilleoth and her bag to bring out to where the horses were being readied. A few minutes later, he was watching his ladies depart, Tilleoth waving a frantic goodbye. He had not realized just how comfortable he had become with his little family until this moment when they were separated for a time, however brief.

It turned out he had no inkling just how much he would miss them, but after a mere three days he found himself wandering aimlessly to his bedchamber, knowing his wife was not there but needing to see something of her – a gown, a hair ribbon, a cherished trinket. When a couple more days had passed, he thought he could not stand the separation any longer and was just determining to travel to Aldburg regardless of whether Lothiriel was yet ready to deliver. However, he was saved the trouble as a messenger came bearing the news that her travail had begun. It did not take long to ready himself and be on his way.

As he entered Eomer’s house, there was much turmoil within. Servants bustled about, many moving from the kitchen to Eomer’s upstairs bedchamber and back, carrying hot water and clean cloths aplenty. He had barely shut the door behind him when a thunder of feet preceeded Tilleoth appearing and flinging herself into his arms. Lifting her up, he kissed her cheek as she announced excitedly, “Papa! Lady Lothiriel is having her baby! Mama is with her and helping.” 

The child had not taken long after his wedding to start calling him Papa, and it sounded sweet to his ears, though at first he feared how Retaleoth might react. But she had assured him, “She should have a father that she can know and love. Cuthwine is nothing more than a name to her. Perhaps when she is older she will discover some fondness for he who gave her life, but truly you will be her father.”

The little girl had paused in her excited chatter, to sober slightly and inform him, “Mama has missed you, Papa. She looks sad when I ask about you at night.”

That knowledge warmed him. He was pleased she felt as strongly as he did about their being parted for even this short while. “Does she? Well, I missed her also. But, what about you? Did you not miss me?” He turned the subject in order to lighten the mood.

“Oh, I did, Papa! I did!” She flung her arms about his neck to hug him tightly as proof of her words and he readily returned her embrace.

After several moments, he asked, “And where is Cousin Eomer, sweetness? I would see him for I am sure he is anxious.”

She nodded sagely at him. “Yes, Cousin Eomer paces and paces. He was bothering Mama and the other ladies, so Mama chased him out of the bedchamber and told him not to return. Now he snaps at the servants and won’t eat and everyone stays away from him!” 

He snickered at her representation of the situation and pressed another kiss to her head. “Well, I am here now. I will see if I can improve his humor! Why do you not take me to him and then you may run along and play.”

The door to Eomer’s study was open and Theodred could see him sitting, raking his hands through his hair in agitation, before rising and stalking around the room. “So, what Tilleoth tells me is true!” he chuckled as he entered the room. “You are like a grouchy old bear!” He moved straight to his cousin and pulled him into an embrace. After a few moments, he stepped back and said firmly, “Women do this all the time, Eomer. She will be fine, and when it is done you will have a son or daughter to dote upon. Now, come. We will go for a nice long ride to give you something to do.”

Eomer hesitated at the suggestion of leaving the house, but Theodred pressed, “Come! I have already spoken to Betersel and it will yet be a few hours before progress is made. You will not miss it, I promise!”

With a guilty laugh, Eomer nodded and the two men headed for the stables. Theodred was given a fresh mount to ride and they slowly made their way out of the city gates. For a time, they walked, allowing the horses to warm up, and Eomer commented, “I did not think it would be so hard, but I find I am not very good at waiting patiently. Every possible fear imaginable comes to mind, and there is nothing you can do about any of it. At least in battle, you can fight or retreat or _something_!”

Theodred nodded. “Yes, so I have heard from other men. It seems our part, as men, in this begetting of children is a very small one. We are not accustomed to sitting idly by and letting others do the work, but that is essentially what happens in the bearing of children.” He snickered. “Next time Lothiriel is expecting, I shall send you far away so you may focus on the getting back in time while you wait!”

Eomer scowled at him for a moment, then laughed. “Perhaps it would help! I should have gone hunting when it began, but I find myself too distracted to think clearly, so I am not sure such an effort would prove fruitful.”

They mostly rode in peaceable silence after that, with a few conversations about business of the Mark but nothing much of consequence being said. After more than an hour, they turned back for Aldburg. By the time they reached Eomer’s home, and got their horses tended, they had managed to occupy nearly three hours. Even so, the situation was not appreciably changed. Betersel advised that Lothiriel was making good progress, but that the babe would not arrive for some time yet.

They settled in Eomer’s study with a tankard of ale and a chess board. Eomer was not at his best for playing such a game, but it gave him something to do in moderately distracting his concerns from Lothiriel. Even so, he glanced frequently toward the door, willing it to end soon.

And, at length, their waiting was over. A servant hurried in to announce, “My Lord, come quickly. Your child is born!”

Eomer stood so fast that he knocked the chess pieces askew, and bolted from the room in an instant. Rising more slowly, Theodred asked the girl, “A son or a daughter?”

She smiled with delight. “A son, your majesty! A fine son!” She curtsied before hurrying away to further announce the birth, and Theodred made his way to the bedchamber. 

Glancing inside from the doorway, he saw his wife standing to the side as Eomer and Lothiriel conversed in soft voices while admiring their son together. Moving silently in, he wrapped his arms around Retaleoth. “You look exhausted,” he observed quietly.

“Yes, but it is a good exhaustion. She did well, and he is a strong, healthy baby.” Retaleoth leaned tiredly into his embrace. Together they stood smiling at the happy couple and their newborn.

After several minutes, the infant began to fuss, and Retaleoth moved forward to help Lothiriel get started in nursing him. Eomer watched the whole process with a look of wonder on his face, unable to tear his eyes from the beloved pair lying before him. Once the boy had nursed and drifted to sleep, it was clear that Lothiriel also needed rest. Retaleoth shooed the men out of the room once more, as the final servants left with soiled linens and pots. Carefully taking the child from Lothiriel, they helped her settle more comfortably under the covers and then created a nest beside her for the baby. “What shall you call him?” Retaleoth asked with a smile.

“Elfwine. Eomer wishes him named Elfwine. A good name, I think,” Lothiriel murmured, as she lightly brushed the infant’s cheeks with her finger tip.

“Indeed it is. Now then, you get some sleep. The days ahead are not going to be easy, and you must recover your strength to face them.” She moved to draw the curtains over the window and blow out some of the candles lighting the room.

“Thank you, my dear friend,” Lothiriel called softly from the bed. “I should not like to have faced this without your steady influence.”

“It has been my pleasure!” Retaleoth told her. “Now sleep.”

Retaleoth sought her own bed as well, after Betersel assured her she would have someone keep an eye on Lothiriel and summon her if she was needed during the night. Tilleoth had already been fed and gotten into bed, and Retaleoth was glad to have nothing further needing her attention. Likely Theodred would stay up talking with Eomer for a while longer. After a quick wash and a few bites of food, she climbed gratefully under the covers.

Downstairs, Eomer had suddenly noticed how hungry he was, and thinking it best not to drink much more ale in celebration of his son without first eating something, he and Theodred settled at the table while servants fetched a quick meal for them. Both dug eagerly into the provided food and ate with relish, not wasting time on conversation. When at last their appetites were satisfied, they sprawled back in their chairs, enjoying ale and peace.

“He is a fine babe, Cousin. Retaleoth tells me he is strong and healthy, though I could not envision you fathering weak children! Congratulations,” Theodred avowed.

“Hmmm…you wed Retaleoth in March, and I did not marry Lothiriel until a couple of months later,” Eomer remarked contemplatively.

Theodred eyed him suspiciously. “Yes…”

Eomer’s mouth twitched with the effort of suppressing a smirk. “Yet here I am the one already with a son. Perhaps Uncle should have kept me as his heir when he had the chance!”

Theodred reached over to cuff his head, but when Eomer ducked he caught his shoulder instead, as Eomer burst out laughing.

“Insolent pup! I should banish you to Mordor for your disrespect!” the king huffed, trying to bite back his own laughter.

“By all means,” Eomer snickered, “if you think it will help you achieve better results!”

That pushed Theodred over the edge and he broke into laughter as well, until both were crying they were laughing so hard. “Believe me, Cousin, I have quite enjoyed _many_ attempts at bringing it to pass!” He leaned back, wiping at his eyes, and then sobered slightly and shrugged. “If there was more I could do I would do it, but nature will have its way in these matters. I can only be patient.” After a few moments, he added, “At least…” His eyes met Eomer’s and he knew he did not need to further explain what he had been going to say – that if he could not produce heirs to succeed him, at least Eomer had done so.

At Theodred’s continued silence and serious expression, Eomer realized there was more on his mind. After several minutes had passed, he urged, “What is it that you are not saying?”

Theodred sighed and then shrugged, propping his head against his fingers on the arm of the chair in which he sat. “It is foolish, I suppose…”

“Tell me, and I will give you my opinion on the matter,” Eomer reiterated.

“It is just…you know I adore Tilleoth, even as though she were my own, but I confess she often wearies me with her…energy.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I thought I would be pleased – I _am_ pleased – to hear childish laughter ringing in the Hall of Meduseld, but…I wonder if I am up to being a father. If just a small child taxes me, how will I cope with an infant? I know it is my duty to provide an heir but…”

Eomer was not without understanding of the sentiments his cousin expressed. He also had wondered how he would fare as a father. All he had known was war and fighting. Could he learn to be tender and loving, to guide a child as he ought. All of those concerns had vanished, at least for the time being, in the moment he held his son – the son that lay sleeping in the arms of his mother in the other room.

“Perhaps it is different when the child is of your flesh,” he suggested. “I worried also but now I can envision no difficulty. Likely there _will_ be some, but when you hold your own child, it is somehow…different.”

“Aye, perhaps,” Theodred conceded, wanting to believe Eomer though it was hard. There was little option, however, so he must pursue this course regardless. And Retaleoth would be there to help him cope – there was always that reassurance.

The royal family remained at Aldburg for another sennight, and Theodred was pleased to have Retaleoth back in his arms. Eventually, during a walk in the garden, he confessed to his wife his concerns about being a father, and not unexpectedly she firmly told him he would be fine in that role. In her arms, he could almost believe it was so.

xx

Even so, they could only wait for it to happen, and despite all efforts no child was in the offing. They kept busy – there was plenty to do, certainly. Once Lothiriel was recovered, and Elfwine old enough to travel, they made regular visits to Edoras. Tilleoth was always delighted to hover over her little cousin, planting wet kisses on him until he squalled in protest and she had to be restrained.

Retaleoth, too, enjoyed having a baby in the house and in her arms again. The softness, the smell, the sweet coos and gurgles could entrance her for hours, and Lothiriel was quite tolerant in sharing her son. Theodred also delighted in the baby, though he was more hesitant in holding such a tiny thing and rarely did so for more than a few minutes at a time.

When Elfwine was nearly eleven months of age, Theodred had greeted them and held Elfwine briefly, before sending them to get settled in their room. Once there, the door left open for the servants who would be following with baggage, they got the sleeping child settled in his cradle.

After a moment, Lothiriel broached a subject that had been on her mind a time or two before. “Eomer…do I imagine it, or is there a sadness in Theodred’s eyes as he holds Elfwine? He loves him, I am sure, and certainly adores Tilleoth. Is he worried that no children have yet come to him and Retaleoth?” Lothiriel asked cautiously, not wanting to intrude on a private matter.

“He…believes he is too old for children, though he recognizes the need for an heir. He finds their energy to be trying and wonders if he could cope with an infant,” Eomer explained, remembering the conversation with his cousin after Elfwine’s birth.

Retaleoth had arrived and stood in the doorway, unnoticed by either of them. Now she tiredly moved into the room, saying, “Not so.” 

They both turned to look at her, and Eomer answered, “He told me –”

“I know what he told you, but you heard only what he wanted you to hear. The reason he gives is not what preys upon his mind. There is the possibility, a very strong possibility, that we are unable to have children.”

“It is too soon,” Lothiriel protested. “It has only been two years –”

Retaleoth raised a hand to stay her words. “I know what you would say, and in any other instance I would accept your view, but there are things you do not know. Theodred’s injuries at Isen were severe. It is possible that he was damaged in such a way as to prevent his fathering children. We still hope it may happen, but we must be realistic.”

The couple glanced at one another, neither knowing how to respond to this declaration. At last, Lothiriel opted for a more direct response and moved to draw Retaleoth into her embrace. For all her strength, it was clear that Retaleoth welcomed the compassionate gesture and despite her efforts to restrain them, a few tears were shed. Finally, she straightened and gave them a weak smile. “Thank you,” she said softly. “It is hard, but in time we will accept it.”

Whatever darkness shadowed their thoughts, the royal pair sought not to let their mood be noticed or affect others. Meals were laughing and pleasant as always, and it was bittersweet watching Theodred attend to his daughter, knowing what they did of the situation.

Later that night, after getting up to nurse Elfwine, when she returned to their bed Lothiriel discovered her husband missing. Glancing around she finally located him. “Eomer?” Lothiriel moved quietly across the darkened room, and sat down beside him in front of the fire. Leaning against his arm, she asked, “What troubles you, my love?” She pressed a kiss to his arm and waited.

After several minutes, he murmured, “It is nothing. Do not be concerned.” His gaze was still on the fire and she did not believe his denial. 

“ _Tell me_ ,” she reiterated more firmly. “Whatever it is, we will bear it together.”

He glanced at her and withdrew his arm from her grip to wrap it around her shoulders and draw her closer to him. “It is just…I was thinking of what Retaleoth has told us – that they may not be able to have children. What will the Mark do if there is no heir?”

She didn’t speak as she pondered this, then told him honestly, “They will do as they have always done – they will cope. They are brave and they are strong, and they will go forward no matter what. No doubt with the steady assistance and guidance of the Marshal of the East-mark!” 

His mouth tweaked in a smile at her teasing, and he flicked a look at her briefly. “I do not know about that –”

“But I do. For a time, Theoden had no heirs, but he had a sister-son and a sister-daughter who would have led the Mark if necessary. That is still so. You now have a son, and Eowyn will give birth in just a few months. It is not hopeless. I would be sorry for Theodred and Retaleoth, but the Mark is secure no matter what. Trust in that!”

“And yet,” he murmured, leaning his head against hers, “I…ache for him, what he must be suffering. I know how very much he wants to be a father. He has always wanted that, even when it seemed likely neither of us would live long enough to accomplish it. Retaleoth is right. He says he considers himself too old, but I can guess what pain is hidden behind that excuse.”

“I know,” Lothiriel sighed. “Even Retaleoth suffers from this. I had a dear friend who could never have children, and it wore on her. I saw the pain in her eyes as she held the children of others, and I held her sometimes when she wept. But Theodred is not totally bereft – at least he will have Tilleoth on which to shower his affections. Perhaps not a child of his flesh, but I think she will always consider him her father. He is all she has ever known in that regard.”

xxxxx

Despite their knowledge of the situation, Theodred did not speak of it and they did not bring it up. But Eomer determined that if Theodred had no sons, then his children would learn to know Theodred as a second father. He would include his cousin in their triumphs and failures, in their efforts and interests. He would not have Theodred completely miss out on the joy of raising a child. He knew Tilleoth already filled that role to a certain extent, but through Eomer he could know it with a son as well.

Not long after Elfwine’s third birthday, Eomer brought his family to Meduseld. Striding into the Golden Hall carrying his son, his wife trailing along more slowly, a laugh playing around her mouth, they approached where the king stood with his Steward, watching their progress. “Theodred-King!” Eomer boomed out. “I do hope you are available to escape for a time! We have work to do!”

Theodred raised an amused eyebrow. “Indeed, Marshal? And what might that be?” he asked.

Holding up his giggling son, Eomer replied, “Elfwine is now of age! Lothiriel says we may begin teaching him to ride outside of a paddock! Will you join me for the first lesson?”

Theodred threw back his head and laughed heartily. “With pleasure, my brother!” He clapped Swidhelm on the shoulder as he moved away, his Steward chuckling at their antics.

“I will clear your afternoon, my lord,” he called after them as they headed for the stables. Then, noticing Lothiriel was not following, asked, “You will not be accompanying them?”

She shook her head. “I do not think my nerves could stand it! And those two do not need a woman barking at their heels to be careful!”

Retaleoth had entered the hall just then and was given a quick explanation of what was transpiring. “Tea, I think,” she announced. “A nice soothing blend is in order!” Laughing merrily together, they turned for Retaleoth’s sitting room.

The two men were gone for several hours, but to Lothiriel’s relief, they returned her son safe and sound after the venture. Elfwine had clearly enjoyed getting to ride in front of his father out on the plains, and babbled on telling his mother of the outing. Then almost as quickly, his energy was spent and he was sound asleep, sprawled against her shoulder.

Lothiriel departed to get the boy settled into bed, and Retaleoth went to make final arrangements on their supper. After the two were gone, Theodred sank down in a chair, his eyes staring across the room.

“Theodred? Is something the matter?” Eomer asked, drawing another chair near and plunking down in it.

“There…there is something I need to tell you, Cousin. I have put it off, hoping it might be unnecessary, but I would be very surprised if that were the case now. There will be no children born in the royal house of Eorl.” His voice was flat and unemotional.

“Retaleoth cannot have children?” Eomer asked quietly. What Retaleoth had told them was in confidence, so he gave no indication of prior knowledge that this might be coming. Let Theodred tell him what he chose and nothing more.

Theodred sighed, leaning his head against his hand and closing his eyes. “Likely she could, just not mine. The healers think the difficulty must be with me, since Retaleoth has already birthed a daughter from her first marriage. They believe the problem may be due to my injuries at Isen. It would seem Saruman was at least partially successful in destroying my line upon the throne.”

He fell silent for several moments, as Eomer considered his words, then finally opened his eyes and added, “Therefore, it falls to you to rule in my stead, if you survive me, and your son will inherit the throne after you.”

“I am truly sorry,” Eomer told him sincerely.

Theodred gazed steadily at him. “Do not trouble yourself over it, my brother. I am resigned to it. And at least Retaleoth has Tilleoth, so she is not altogether deprived of children. In a way, it is almost fitting. For a time, Father had named you his heir, when he thought I was lost, and then it was snatched from you. This turn of events means that we will both serve as heirs to the throne, though you may not end up ruling long, if ever. But I am pleased to be able to honor you and your house in this way.”

xxxxx

(April, 17 IV)

It had been many long years since that day in Meduseld when Elfwine was newly three years of age. True to his word, Eomer had shared his son, indeed all his children, with his cousin, making sure that he was involved in every part of their lives. Just as he and Eowyn had loved their uncle as a father, Eomer’s children loved their king similarly. Tilleoth was never forgotten in the midst of all this, for Eomer saw to it that his children viewed her as a sister, and she was a frequent visitor at Aldburg.

Now, a new day was rising. The people of Edoras and the Mark had long since realized that there would be no children born to Theodred, and Eomer was readily acknowledged as his heir when the time should come that such was necessary. And, naturally, they knew that Elfwine would be next in line behind his father. That had never been disputed by anyone for the Marshal of the East-mark and his family had always been well regarded.

Today, many had gathered for the formal acknowledgement of Elfwine’s coming of age. He was to join an eored and begin official training in battle skills. But first he was to be presented to his king, to be formally accepted as a rightful descendant. There was no age-old ceremony to adhere to – these were unusual circumstances. And, so, Theodred felt free to keep it simple, presenting the young man for the approval of his people.

“Eorlingas, friends – I thank you for gathering this day. Here is Elfwine, son of Eomer, Marshal of the East-mark. You have already agreed to Eomer’s standing in my stead when my days are ended. Shall you have Elfwine be the heir to his father, and carry on the line of Eorl long into this new age?”

Without hesitation, a loud cheer was heard. “Aye! Hail Elfwine, heir of the Mark!” The boy colored slightly at their fervor and ducked his head for a moment to hide it.

“So it shall be,” Theodred intoned. “Today Elfwine is become a man and begins his training. Long may he defend the Mark against all enemies.”

Elfwine swallowed hard twice and then stepped forward, turning sharply to take a knee in front of Theodred as he drew his sword. The king raised an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting this and wondering at the young man’s actions. Raising his sword upon his hands and bowing his head, he loudly told Theodred in a clear voice, “Take this, dear lord! It is ever at your service.”

Theodred struggled momentarily with his emotions, but then he nodded and took the offered sword. Holding the blade high for all to see, he said firmly, “Your allegiance is accepted, and most welcome. I return your sword that you may always honor the house of Eorl with its service.” He signaled for Elfwine to rise, and then offered the sword back to him. Once it was sheathed, he drew his young cousin into an emotional embrace.

Off to the side on the terrace, Lothiriel watched her son with pride. An arm suddenly linked with hers and she turned as Retaleoth said softly, “I think I must thank you for this.”

An elegant eyebrow rose. “What do you mean?”

“I cannot think Elfwine thought to do this all on his own. I am inclined to think there was a mother’s influence behind it,” she said smiling, blinking away a few tears.

Lothiriel gripped her arm tighter. “Nay. I did not suggest this – it is all his own doing. All I may possibly be accused of is making sure he knew of the old tales, of Rohan’s history and his father’s part in it. He alone chose to emulate Eomer and pledge such allegiance as his father once did to Theoden.”

The two women stood arm in arm, their heads together as they smiled at their families receiving congratulations and good wishes from the citizens of Edoras. This day had been a long time coming, but it was good to see the blending – Rohan and Gondor joined in marriage, and the lines of father and son being blurred so that none was left wanting. Theoden could not have anticipated such a thing in the course of his life, but surely he would be well pleased this day. The Mark was in good hands.

THE END

12/6/08 – 6/19/09

_**This ends the main part of the story. However, a reader on FFN commented they would like to know more of what happened with Tilleoth, since her circumstances were unusual. The final two chapters shown as existing (14-15) cover her. You only get glimpses of other characters. You can keep reading for those or end here.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes: Elfwine's actions mimic Eomer's after Gandalf freed Theoden from Saruman's control and Eomer was freed from prison (see book for details).
> 
> 2978 Theodred born ; 2991 Eomer born ; 2995 Eowyn born ; 2999 Lothiriel born ; 3002 Eomund killed, Theodwyn dies
> 
> Original Characters:  
> Athelhad – "noble person" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg  
> Brenross – "bold rain" – Swan Knight who guided Eomer from M.T. to Dol Amroth  
> Cuthwine – "known friend" – Retaleoth's deceased husband; Tilleoth's father  
> Deorlyft – "precious sky" – Dunhere's widow  
> Eadgif – "rich gift" – servant at Aldburg in Eomer's house  
> Eanswith – "one strength" – Erkenbrand's wife  
> Freobyrne – "free fire" – injured Roh. at M.T.; Thd knew him from his serving at H.D.  
> Fylscinan – "shine plentifully" – child at H.D.; Tilleoth goes to play with her  
> Harding – Elfhelm's second in command; carries wounded Theodred to H.D.  
> Retaleoth - "cheering or comforting song" – eldest daughter of Erkenbrand  
> Seftebeorn – "pleasant man" – leech at Helm's Deep  
> Swidhelm – "strong fortress" – Theodred's steward  
> Tilleoth – "good song" – daughter of Retaleoth  
> Walda – "power" – Rider in D.A. with Eomer, sent with message to Theodred  
> Wermund – "protector of truth" – rider in Theodred's escort to M.T.; sings/composes songs  
> 


	14. Paradox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Was not intending any sort of sequel or epilogue to this story when I wrote it, but then dedicated reader/reviewer JuliaAurelia mentioned interest in knowing “the rest of the story” with regards to Tilleoth. She has several unusual aspects that make her destiny less defined than others’ might be. The notion began niggling away at me, and I thought I would pursue it to see where it led. So these two new chapters are dedicated to JuliaAurelia, who inspired them._
> 
> _This is more an adjunct story to Juxtaposition, rather than an actual sequel. It does follow Juxtaposition chronologically (beginning about 5 months after that one ended), but the focus is no longer on Eomer/Lothiriel/Theodred. However, it does involve characters and backstory from that tale, so I kept them together._

**par•a•dox - 3 : one (as a person, situation, or action) having seemingly contradictory qualities or phases**

_(Edoras, September, 17 IV)_

**Chapter 1**

When I gaze in my mirror, I realize that I am a paradox in the Mark. Though I call Theodred King ‘father’, he is not in fact the one who helped give me life. But I never knew my true father – he died without ever seeing me, shortly after I was born – so Theodred is truly the only father that I have ever known, and neither of us has ever felt any lack because we do not share blood.

I came to live at Meduseld when I was only five years of age, having spent my years prior to that living with my widowed mother at the Hornburg. Theodred was a familiar sight to us there, as he was in command of the forces in the West-mark at the time, and I had known him since my birth. Like everyone else, I was not aware that my mother and Theodred had come to love one another, so well had they hidden it, but once the War was ended, they did not hesitate to proclaim their intent to marry.

I missed my friends at the Hornburg, and my grandparents, but Meduseld was new and exciting, and the puppy Theodred gave me shortly after my arrival only added to my delight with my new home. Growing up here – the seat of the crown – caused me to have childish visions of a future in which I would one day be queen, just like my mother. Not until I was several years older did I know the folly of that ambition. 

Ours is a patriarchal monarchy, and all the kings have been in the bloodline of Eorl, which I am not. In extreme circumstances, a daughter of Eorl may be called upon to rule, but rarely is that so. The expectation, of course, was that my mother would bear a son to our king, and he would be heir to the throne. For several years that was hoped for with great anticipation. Being so young, it took me longer than many others to realize that there would be no siblings coming forth, but by the time I did understand it I also understood that the throne would never come to me.

My father’s cousin, Eomer of Aldburg, had married and sired a son, who he named Elfwine – it was to him that the line of rule would pass. In my younger days, perhaps I resented that, even though I knew that women rarely ruled. And, for a time, I even envisioned the possibility that I would marry my young cousin and thus become queen after the manner of my mother. Because I grew up alongside cousin Eomer’s children, I was much in their company. Once, when he was about four years of age, Elfwine even fervently told me that when he was big he would marry me. I was touched by his obvious fondness for me, but already I was old enough to have a better grasp of the situation. 

When you have changed someone’s diapers, it is difficult to view them romantically! Though I loved him dearly, Elfwine was always just…Elfwine. He was more a brother than anything else, and I could not quite envision him as a lover. And despite his youthful proclamation, as he grew older it was other girls that drew his male notice, not me. When I was honest with myself, I was not troubled by that. I loved him, but I was not in love with him, and somehow marriage was simply unthinkable.

With a sigh, I am forced to set aside such reverie, and stand. As I glance around my bedchamber, many fond memories are brought to mind, not the least of which is my burgeoning shell collection. Cousin Eomer brought me the first shells, upon his return from Dol Amroth with Lothiriel as his bride. He and my cousin Alphros had collected shells along the shoreline, and then together had selected a few to be brought to me.

Since that time, any family members that ventured to or from Dol Amroth generally made an effort to bring me at least one new shell for my collection. Reaching out, I pick up a nearly perfect sandflower shell that is my favorite. The five pointed flower seems etched on the surface as if by an awl. Holding it brings a smile to my face as I remember Alphros, gangly and awkward at ten and six years but eager to please, presenting this to me with great delight four years ago. 

“It has taken quite a while to find one completely intact,” he had explained earnestly. “Usually they have been broken by the pounding of the sea, but I kept looking for one – for your collection.”

I had hugged him gratefully, delighted by this new treasure, and it now had the place of pride on my shelf. Along with the shells, over the years Alphros had also brought me sand and bits of interesting driftwood or other sea treasures. Together we had sculpted a small, but increasing, beach display on the shelf, and every morning upon waking I found myself glancing at it first thing before beginning my day. Others gave me shells, but Alphros always found the most interesting ones.

And he was to arrive today, with his family. I had no doubt there was a shell or other jewel of the sea tucked into his baggage, kept safe just for me. That thought brought a smile, and I hurriedly finished arranging my hair before moving to the Golden Hall.

Not surprisingly, Father was already gone from the breakfast chamber, but mother was still there, talking with the head housekeeper and finalizing details about our guests’ accommodations. When Durucwen left, Mother smiled at me, saying, “You look very becoming this morning, love.” Then fondly she added, “But then you always do!”

Grinning, I bent to kiss her cheek and give her a quick hug, before seating myself and dishing some breakfast onto a plate.

Mother took a sip of her tea and then asked, “Have you decided whether or not you will go with them, when they return home to Dol Amroth? This late in the year, if you go likely you will need to remain there until spring, or risk traveling in severe weather.”

“I know,” I answered, after swallowing a bite of buttered bread. “It would be difficult being away from everyone here for all those months, but I do so enjoy it there – and certainly the climate is more temperate in winter! Shall you be very distressed if I decide to go?”

“Of course not, my love!” Mother reassured me. “What young woman your age would not enjoy such a delight! Feasts and dancing are not just for a pleasurable time, but also to become acquainted with young men. There should be much more opportunity for such in Dol Amroth. Perhaps you will meet someone there who appeals to you.”

I flushed at the remark. This was not the first time we had held such a conversation, and Father had alluded to the subject of marriage a time or two also. I knew they meant well, and sought my happiness, but I truly could not say that any of the young men I had met stirred my heart. At three and twenty years, I had waited longer than most young women of the Mark, though not excessively so. Surely there was still time to find the right man to share my life.

For that matter, I still had not determined my place. Though I claimed the king as my father, I was not truly royal. My own grandfather _was_ a nobleman, but my mother had married a soldier. Cuthwine was a good and honorable man, or grandfather would not have consented to the match, but he had held no rank in society. So what did that make me? Was I of the noble class or something lower? In Gondor, they placed much emphasis on marrying well, particularly for those of the nobility, but it was not so in the Riddermark. Still, was I expected to seek someone of greater status than a farmer or tradesman, or could I marry anyone of my choosing? I had long since abandoned the notion that I would marry Elfwine and become queen of Rohan, but I remained filled with unanswered questions and uncertainties about my future.

I was grateful that Mother did not pursue the subject further, instead rising to begin her day. I quickly finished my meal and hurried off to the stables. Perhaps I would ride out for a while; if I was lucky the party from Dol Amroth would arrive soon and I could be the first to greet them.

xxx

I had not met up with the Dol Amroth kin on the road, to my disappointment, and they did not arrive at Meduseld until after the midday meal. In the midst of all the greetings, I had little opportunity to corner Alphros and see what treasure he had brought to me. It took more than an hour before I managed to catch him, just preparing to leave his room. Smiling expectantly, I said, “Well?”

“Well what?” he replied, feigning ignorance of my meaning.

“Alphros! I know you have brought me a shell! Where is it?” I asked impatiently, though I could not hide a tiny grin at his teasing.

“Shell?” he asked haughtily. “Shells are for children! Why would I bring such a thing to a grown woman?” 

I was surprised to realize how much I would miss it if Alphros truly had decided to stop bringing me shells or other sea treasures. Perhaps I _was_ getting too old for such things, but they were a warm and precious memory of my growing up years, and I was reluctant to relinquish them any time soon. However, his eyes were laughing at me, despite his words, so I gave him my best pout as I retorted, “But you always bring me shells!” I allowed my tone to take on a watery, verge-of-tears tone and he laughed.

“I knew it was a mistake, all those years ago, to help Uncle Eomer find shells to bring to you! You have become obsessed, dear cousin!” He reached to tweak my nose, but years of spending time with Elfwine, who had taken boyish delight in teasing his cousin, had taught me well. 

My hand caught his wrist before he could touch me, and I scowled repressively at him. “You knew nothing of the sort!” I snapped. “You just did not wish to share your precious shells with some stranger – and a girl at that! Cousin Eomer had to talk you into it!”

After a moment of mutual glaring, we both laughed and he pulled free from my grasp. Going to the dresser, he opened the top drawer and drew forth a cloth, carefully unwrapping it. I gasped as I saw what lay snuggled there – a heart-shaped cockle shell. Gingerly I picked it up for closer examination as he explained, “These are as difficult as sandflowers to find completely intact, and they are not so commonly seen. But Uncle Erchirion took me sailing and I found this on one of the smaller islands off the coast.”

“It is beautiful!” I murmured reverently. “Thank you so very much, dear Alphros.” I flung myself into his arms to give him a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you!”

Both of us were raised in royal courts, and when in the public view we had learned to comport ourselves with dignity and decorum, but behind closed doors our families were not so stiff and cold. A bow and a curtsy might be sufficient as greeting out on the terrace, but such a wondrous gift as this certainly merited a far greater display of appreciation. Alphros warmly received my embrace. “You are very welcome, my dearest cousin,” he said quietly.

There was something in his voice that made me draw back, and eye him more closely. “Alphros?” I said, not elaborating as I wasn’t even sure myself what my question was.

For a moment, I thought he was going to ask me something, but then he just grinned and caught my hand to draw me after him toward my bedchamber. “Come – let us find a spot for it on your shelf.”

We did not take long situating this new delight in an honored place, and then Alphros desired something to eat to tide him over until the feast that night. They had eaten a cursory meal while traveling in order to expedite their arrival, and with the voracious appetite of young men, it had not satisfied him.

We were a familiar sight to Cook, as we often seemed to be begging food between meals for a hungry Alphros, whenever he visited. As usual, she settled us at a small work table with some sweet bread and tea, smiling indulgently at us before bustling back to her work. He listened to my news of doings at Edoras, and then around bites of bread, he returned the favor with news from the south.

When he was finished, we went for a walk about town and only then did we share more personal conversation, when no one else would hear. It had always seemed strange to me that my closest confidante was male. Though I adored cousin Eomer’s children and we were very close, Alphros and I had always seemed to share a special affinity. I was more apt to share my deepest thoughts with him in a letter, than confess them to a cousin in the same room with me.

I suppose there are just some people who are kindred souls, and such were we. And, perhaps, the circumstances of our living in royal households made us more attuned to the life the other led. We knew the problems and challenges of such a life in a way that most outsiders could not understand. Having lived in a house that desperately sought a male heir to the throne, I well knew the pressure on him as the heir in Dol Amroth. 

In truth, we did more walking and talking than shopping on our jaunt about town, but that did not matter. Soon enough, we were returning up the hill in order to prepare for the evening’s festivities. I was eager to wear the new dress I had purchased a fortnight ago just for this occasion. I did not often indulge in extravagance with regard to clothing, but when I had seen this dress I could not rest until I made it mine. The color, the style – all of it were just to my taste, and I was anxious to show it off.

The relatives from Dol Amroth always stood out at such gatherings, with their dark hair and more formal attire than was common to the Mark. Cousin Elfwine had inherited the darker hair, and rather resembled his grandfather, Imrahil, but both his sisters had the tawny tresses of their father. Despite this noticeable difference, however, our southern kin were so well known in our midst that they were readily welcomed and were completely comfortable interacting with our people.

I arrived in the main hall to find many guests had already arrived, and were mingling about talking while they waited for supper to begin. Shortly after I put in appearance, Father and Mother took their places at the head of the hall to welcome all comers, and I moved to stand near them. I was always required to spend at least a portion of my time initially greeting guests at such events. Over the years I had refined my approach to the task until it came naturally to me. 

To my amusement, Alphros snuck into the line of people moving past us and bowed over my hand, kissing it with a devilish snicker. “My lady Tilleoth,” he smirked, “so delightful to see you once again!”

I pinched his hand in retribution as I withdrew my own from his grasp. “Lord Alphros. You are always welcome in our halls,” I replied with a hint of haughtiness, though my eyes reflected my delight with our banter.

His eyes ran over my apparel and he added, more seriously to my surprise, “And you are looking especially lovely this evening. I hope you will favor me with the first dance, and several thereafter also.”

He knew full well that I always made time to dance with him, but he was not often so flattering, and despite myself I could feel my cheeks pink with embarrassment. Still, what woman does not enjoy being admired? With a cordial nod of my head, I accepted his accolade as well as his invitation. “I thank you, sir, and I should be delighted to dance with you this night.” His eyes crinkled with restrained laughter, but he moved on rather than torment me further when I was trying to remain composed and attend to my duties.

Despite our enjoyment of one another’s company, we were not seated together for supper and so I did not see him for the hour or so it took to dine. As the tables were being cleared of food and then pushed out of the way for the dancing, he approached to claim me as his dance partner, and we were on the floor with the first strains of music. We continued dancing for several more in a row, and it felt good to be together again. It was only after long separations that I realized how much I enjoyed his presence.

Even so, I could not slight others by dancing solely with Alphros, and so had to make myself available to other partners. Consequently, I did not see him for over half an hour after that as I was squired around the floor by various gentlemen. After the fourth such dance, I was ready for some wine to slake my thirst and a rest to catch my breath. I slipped into the shadow of the pillars to find a moment’s solitude.

As I leaned there in the darkness, two young men came to stand on the other side, and apparently they had not seen me there for they began to talk of me and my situation. I confess I strained to hear their words, and was dismayed to discover that they also questioned my place in the royal household. Like me, they wondered if I should be considered nobility or not. I was startled when a new, familiar voice joined their discussion. Unable to see them, I had not realized Alphros had also overheard and had chosen to put forth his own thoughts. I crept slightly around the pillar to get a glimpse of the three, unable to restrain my curiosity.

“Hmmm, I see there is some confusion as to the position Tilleoth holds in the royal household,” Alphros stated blandly. He took a sip of wine, as I flushed pink nearby, trying to pretend I was not overhearing this conversation if anyone noticed my loitering there. “I have an idea!” he exclaimed innocently. “Shall we ask Elfwine? I am sure he can clear up this matter with complete authority. Come!” He gestured to where our cousin stood not far away, and I bit my lip, wondering what mischief he had in mind.

The two men had little option but to follow him over to Elfwine, and I circled around in the shadows that I might continue to listen to their conversation. I knew that secretively hearing others’ discussions was wrong, but I truly wished to know what Elfwine would say on this subject.

“Elfwine!” Alphros called out as they approached him, and my cousin turned, raising a questioning eyebrow at the three men before him. “These gentlemen seem confused as to Tilleoth’s place in the household of Meduseld. It concerns them that she is not Theodred King’s natural daughter.” He took another sip of wine, but I suspected it was to hide a grin – Alphros could be quite wicked at times.

Elfwine’s eyes shifted from Alphros to the others and he said firmly, “Tilleoth is my sister, with all the rights and privileges such a position affords. There is no need to discuss the matter further. It is as simple as that.” With a nod of his head, he dismissed the two men, and then I saw his eyes meet Alphros’ gaze. He could guess what had transpired, and he also knew why Alphros had dragged him into it. The merest smirk grazed his lips before he moved away, gently bumping against Alphros’ shoulder with his own. 

Both of them were struggling not to laugh heartily, and I shook my head in disbelief of the pair. Even so, I was relieved that my cousin had so unequivocally verified my standing. Too often I had wondered just that very thing, though I had never quite dared inquire. I had always _believed_ that Eomer’s children considered me kin, though we shared no bloodlines, but it was most heartening to hear it voiced so publicly. And yet…something in me still… _doubted_.

“So deep in thought!” an amused voice teased close to my left ear, making me start with surprise. Alphros grinned at me as he questioned, “Have you been listening in on debates that do not include you, dear cousin? For shame!”

“Have I not the right to know what others are saying of me?” I defended, though my cheeks were flaming with embarrassment at being caught. And to my greater annoyance, there was a quaver to my voice that revealed far too much of my inner turmoil. As irritating as he can be, Alphros is also quite astute and his eyes narrowed. Silently, he caught my elbow and steered me toward an exit out to the side terrace.

Once we were alone in the darkness, he turned me to face him. “What is this? What troubles you, Tilleoth? Surely you knew what Elfwine would say on the matter.”

I shrugged, trying unsuccessfully to free myself from his grip so as to conceal my face in the shadows, but he kept me firmly facing into the moonlight and I could not hide. “I…of course he would answer thus,” I stammered.

“Tilleoth,” Alphros said sternly, giving me a slight shake, “Elfwine would not lie or exaggerate. He spoke honestly, as he always does. He may be young, but he is ever honest, as are most Eorlingas. He truly considers you his sister! Believe it!”

“I know,” I acknowledged reluctantly, “but you cannot deny that I do not bear the blood of Eorl and –”

“Nonsense! That is only important if you were the only one available to rule. As that is not the case, it is irrelevant! I know it, Elfwine knows it and you should know it also. Blood or not, you are of the royal house of Rohan and ever will be. _Believe_ it!”

And in that moment, I did believe it. Elfwine wouldn’t lie, or simply say it to be nice. He truly meant his words, I was certain. All the years of teasing and bickering that we had gone through were just normal parts of being siblings. He had never treated his blood sisters with any more regard than I was always given. I could not deny that.

Now I felt very foolish for my behavior, but Alphros snugged my hand around his arm and guided me back to the hall. “Let us forget all this nonsense and dance!” he told me. “You are my favorite dance partner, these Rohirric dances are a welcome change from our Gondorian court dances, and I will not waste my time here on such pointless arguments. I will dance with the king’s daughter!”

My good humor was more than restored. How could I be pensive and hesitant in the face of such cheery certainty. I still had to dance with others, but I made sure to partner with Alphros as often as I could manage it.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> par•a•dox - 3 : one (as a person, situation, or action) having seemingly contradictory qualities or phases
> 
> 3019 - Theodred-41, Retaleoth-31, Eomer-28, Eowyn-24, Lothiriel-20, Tilleoth-5 17 IV - Elfwine-16, Alphros-20, Tilleoth-23, Alphrin-18
> 
> "Sandflower" shells are what is commonly known in America as sand dollars, but I didn't think that name was appropriate to Middle-earth, so WendWriter helped me come up with an alternate name for them.
> 
> per Thain's book, The name Alphros appears to contain the word alph meaning "swan" - the symbol of Dol Amroth - and ros meaning "foam." So I have named his sister Alphrin, which would be "swan queen".


	15. Paradox, ch 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of this adjunct story. I'm considering which of my other stories to start posting next week, so stay tuned: more Eomer/Lothiriel coming your way. Someone once accused me of writing "50 Ways to Meet Your Lover" for these two, and they aren't far wrong - I have written about half that many variations.

**Chapter 2**

I was feeling cross and out of sorts, and I did not much care who knew it. I had spent a wonderful fortnight in the company of our Dol Amroth relatives, and now was returning to their city with them to winter there. And, then, the night before we left, my father and mother took me aside to _talk_. I needed to settle, they said. I needed to think of marriage and a family. I should _consider_ the noblemen’s sons here at home, but also take the opportunity of this visit to learn more of the young men in Gondor. I might have smiled and nodded, but paid little attention – this urging was not surprising – but then they particularly suggested a _certain_ young man, the son of one of Father’s advisers. And that had been the end of my pleasant expectations for this trip. Even if I would be gone for several months and not have to think further on the subject, it was sure to be awaiting my return.

In the hustle and bustle of our departure, no one seemed to notice my black mood, but once we were on the Great West Road, it did not take long for Alphros to challenge me. I did not wish to discuss the matter with him, so I pretended that I was merely downcast about not seeing my family for so long a time. His jaw tightened as he eyed me closely, but I suspected he did not believe me, though he did not ask further questions. After that, I made a greater effort to conceal my discontent, though it slipped through more often than I would have liked. We met with quite a bit of rain, and I grumbled far more than usual about the adverse conditions.

Minas Tirith was a welcome sight, as it gave us a chance to fully dry out for a couple of days before continuing on to Dol Amroth by boat. Though there was a supper and dance while we were there, I stubbornly refused to enjoy it, or to welcome the approaches of various young men. At length, I pleaded a headache and turned in early. It was petulant of me I am sure, to behave so, but I was utterly aggravated by everyone’s determination that I _hunt_ for a marriage partner. In none of the happiest marriages of my acquaintance had the couples actively been seeking someone. They had merely met and then feelings had flowered. I very much wished that to be the case with me as well.

Luckily, the weather cleared some before we began our journey down the Anduin, and the boat ride was not unpleasant. But, just as we pulled into the harbor at Dol Amroth, the dark clouds began to gather once more and we were scarcely inside the castle before the storm broke. The weather weighed on me even more heavily than my thoughts, and I almost wished I had never bothered to come all this way if I was not going to be able to enjoy myself.

I was still arranging my room, placing my belongings where I wanted them, when a knock came at my door. The maid assisting me opened it to reveal Alphros, who came immediately over to me. 

“Come, we will go up to the solar. The sea should look magnificent from there, but we can remain snug and dry.” Alphros tugged at my arm to draw me with him, and I readily fell in beside him. 

The solar was in the very top of the castle, and on the third flight of stairs, I complained breathlessly, “One would think Dol Amroth’s heir to the throne might provide more amenable weather for his guests so they do not have to exhaust themselves with all this climbing! Where are the bright, clear, sunny days you so proudly tout?”

He snickered, and retorted, “I shall be happy to provide them in abundance, when you have the good sense to visit during the summer months! And guests should not be so persnickety!”

I stopped to catch my breath at the top of the stairs, then hurried to follow him down the hall. He had not waited for me, and I had to rush in order to catch up. “The heir is also rude – running off and leaving his guests to perish with overexertion!”

He slanted a glance at me, grinning. “I thought people of the Mark were a hardier breed! I am sorely disappointed to learn otherwise!”

I scowled and cuffed his arm, but he just laughed as he led the way into the solar. He had been right – the sea was glorious in all its storminess. I think I actually preferred it when it was like this than when it was all smooth and calm in pleasant, sunny weather. “Beautiful!” I murmured, moving to the window.

In some ways, the gray skies mirrored in the gray water perfectly reflected my own inner turmoil. Why had Father had to bring up such an unpleasant subject just before I left? I feared it might color too much of my visit, impinging on my enjoyment of my home for the next several months.

“So, are you going to tell me what has had you so out of sorts for the entire journey here?” Alphros asked quietly, moving to stand beside me.

I stiffened at the remark; I had thought he had forgotten my ill humor, or accepted my excuse. “Nothing. I am just tired. The journey is always taxing,” I lied. I wasn’t good at lying, and certainly not to Alphros – he snorted in disbelief.

“You have made that journey numerous times over the past two decades, and never have I seen you so ‘taxed’ by it! Tell me it is none of my business, Tilleoth, but do not make up ridiculous tales and expect me to believe them.” 

I detected a note of hurt in his voice, which I could understand. The Rohirrim did not lie, and I had never lied to him. Of course he would be offended by such a thing now. “I…I am sorry,” I apologized. “That was foolish of me.” I gave a heavy sigh and then blurted out a cryptic answer. “Marriage!”

He raised an eyebrow, but did not look at me. “There is something you find objectionable about the marriage state?” he asked.

“No…not exactly.” I sighed again, finally deciding to tell him all. He was my dearest friend; if I could not confide in him, then who? “Father…is urging me to enter into marriage, and wants me to consider the son of one of his advisers,” I confessed. At the look of puzzlement from Alphros, I quickly added, “Oh, he would not push me into a union that I did not wish, with someone I did not love, but he wants to _encourage_ me to…more actively look for a companion. Why must I _consider_ anyone? Mother did not _consider_ Father. Aunt Eowyn and Aunt Lothiriel did not _consider_ their husbands. They developed affections, and when they learned the other felt similarly then they wed. Can I not do the same?”

I let out a growl and balled both hands into fists. “You are fortunate! At only twenty years, it will probably be some time yet before they start urging you to find a wife. But make no mistake, dear cousin, sooner or later they will start to hound you about it!”

“Actually,” he said pensively, staring out at the blowing storm, “they have already begun. Nothing quite so particular as to suggest a specific lady, but they deem I should begin the process as soon as possible.”

I plunked down in one of the chairs and scowled at his back. After a moment, I asked curiously, “Is there…someone who might interest you? Or are you feeling the strain of their nudgings as I am, with no one special who has caught your affection?”

Alphros shifted restlessly where he stood, and though he glanced quickly at me, he instantly turned his gaze back out over the sea. Finally, he mumbled, “The truth is, when I think of marriage, I think of…you.”

My eyes went wide with astonishment at this pronouncement. Could he be serious? Alphros and I were just…just…just the very best of friends. Or so I had always thought. Now I realized how close we had become over time, and how much we had shared; how eager each of us was to visit the other; how many thoughtful things he did for me just to give me pleasure. Others brought shells for my collection as an afterthought, and if they remembered. Even then, they usually brought common shells that were easily obtained. But Alphros would search for weeks, sometimes even years, to find undamaged versions of rare or delicate shells, and did it simply to please me. 

How long had he harbored feelings for me that went beyond friendship? And, more importantly, did I feel similarly toward him? I had never considered that question, and I knew there were arguments against such a relationship. He was younger than me by a few years, and my cousin as well – though I suppose the latter was not entirely correct; we were not in fact related by blood. And he lived in Dol Amroth, far from my family and homeland. 

I was silent so long, lost in my musings, that he interpreted my lack of response as reticence. “You do not need to… I understand if you do not feel the same, Tilleoth. I knew we had never spoken of such things, but I had to find out whether or not it was…possible. I will say no more on this. Forget that I spoke.”

He started to brush past me and leave, but I could not let him go like this. “Wait!” I exclaimed, surging up from my seat to catch his arm. “We must talk!”

“Tilleoth, it is fine – you do not need to apologize for not sharing my feelings,” he said with a sigh. He did not look at me, and again tried to move toward the door, but I would not release his arm.

“No! You must hear me out!” I insisted. “You have had your say, now let me have mine.”

He had stopped, and he was listening, though he would not meet my gaze. Now that I had his attention, I was not sure what to actually say. Alphros? Marry him? But the more I thought about it, the less strange it seemed. In fact, it seemed the most perfectly obvious thing imaginable. I cocked my head with surprise as I looked at him. How had I never noticed how very special he made me feel? Why had it never occurred to me that when he was in the room I lost interest in all else. I had always attributed that to a close friendship, but had it become something much more without my even being aware of a change?

“I…I _do_ love you,” I murmured with wonder. “I do not know when or how it came to be, but it is so all the same.”

His eyes shot up and our gazes locked on one another. For several long moments we stood thus, merely staring at each other, and then slowly, tentatively, he leaned toward me. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to meet him part-way. 

Boys and young men have snuck kisses from me a time or two in my life, so this was not my first kiss ever, but it was the first one I truly desired. I tolerated the others, because it was a new and exciting thing, but I had no special feelings for the fellow and made no effort to encourage a repeat from any of them. 

Alphros’ kiss awakened a need in me that I had never felt before, a yearning for…more, though I was not certain what precisely _more_ I desired. Something deep inside whispered that it had something to do with love and marriage and family, and a jolt of excitement shot through me as I tasted his lips. The kiss did not last long, as both of us were rather hesitant and uncertain about this change in our relationship.

We paused, breathing rapidly, self-consciously, but something had stirred within us and we could not resist a second kiss. A kiss that promised of things to come in our shared future. Our arms went around each other, drawing close into an intimate embrace, and only the need for air could make us relinquish such sweet refreshment.

Alphros rested his forehead against mine after the second kiss, and we again stood in silence, until at length he murmured, “Are you certain? Are you very certain this is what you want? It is new and unexpected, but is it truly what you feel?”

Unable to find my voice, I merely nodded. I turned my head to rest it against his shoulder, tucked up under his chin. After what seemed an eternity, I explained, “I never realized all that I felt until you made me think on it. Perhaps that is why I have so resented all efforts to encourage me to _consider_ others. My heart knew what my head had not yet learned.”

xxx

We spent the rest of the day in the solar, talking and exploring this new aspect of our association. We never consciously decided to conceal our feelings from the rest of the family, but somehow that is what we both ended up doing when at last we went down to supper. In view of others, we behaved toward each other as we always had, but we were eager for stolen moments alone.

Surprisingly, the weather cleared that evening. I could not truly attribute it to my improved mood, but it was amusingly coincidental, nonetheless. We spent the entire next day together, walking about Dol Amroth so I could reacquaint myself with my favorite haunts.

The following day, however, I arose with an earnest desire to do something special for Alphros. The respite from the storm was short-lived, as the rain had returned during the night, slashing at the windows. The prospect of a dreary day spent indoors seemed the perfect opportunity to act. I was up and moving early, and did not see Alphros until nearly midday when I found him in the library looking very ill-tempered.

He was slouched in a chair and glanced up as I entered. With a scowl, he inquired testily, “Where have you been all morning? I looked everywhere for you!”

Grinning, I primly sat down on the couch and retorted, “Apparently not!”

His scowl deepened. “Yes, you are right – I did not go down to the wharf to see if you were fishing in the driving rain!” He knew full well that even as much as I loved the seashore, I hated fishing, but two could play this game.

“Well, if you are going to be so cross with me, then I suppose I will not share after all…”

I looked away from him and moved toward the library doors, but just as I had expected, he could not stand to not know where I had been and what I meant. “Share what? Where have you been?” His tone was somewhat less cross now, and more little-boy petulant.

Flashing a teasing look over my shoulder, I murmured seductively, “Why not come and find out?” I continued on toward the door, and though he hesitated, not wanting to let me win, I soon heard his footsteps following me.

In the hall, I scooped up the basket I had left there and then began to run. More hesitation, but then I heard him break into a jog to keep up. “Tilleoth! What are you doing?” He pounded up the stairs after me, gaining ground as I struggled with skirt and basket.

He caught me halfway up the second flight, leading to the third floor, and grabbed me by the elbow to stop me. We both stood there breathlessly eyeing one another, his eyes narrowed questioningly and mine trying to appear innocent. After a few moments, as we caught our breath, he grudgingly asked, “Are we headed to the solar?”

With a smirk, I told him, “That is where _I_ am going! I have no idea what _your_ intentions are!”

Suddenly stepping in so close to me that what breath I had recovered lodged in my throat, he replied quietly, “My _intention_ is to be wherever you are, just as often as I possibly can be!”

Recovering my composure, I smiled less teasingly and caught his hand. “Then I suppose you must come to the solar!” 

Together we scrambled up the remaining stairs and walked the short distance to the solar entrance. At the door, he looked at me with raised eyebrow. “Now what?”

I released his hand as I moved into the room, dropping the basket on one of the tables. Without looking at him, I opened it and began to lay out its contents. Once the lid had been lifted, the bounty of the basket could no longer be contained, and the scent of apple tart wafted around the room. Alphros’ eyes went round and he hastened to join me. “Apple tarts! This is where you were, making apple tarts?”

Already he was biting into a still warm tart and I smiled lovingly at him. “Yes, this is where I was all morning. I have heard there is someone at Dol Amroth who especially likes my apple tarts and thought to surprise him. Instead, I was the one surprised with his cross, disagreeable behavior toward me!”

He swallowed a couple more bites of tart before wiping his fingers on a napkin and turning to me. Drawing me into his arms, he sheepishly apologized, “I am sorry, my love! I was only cross and disagreeable because I wanted to be with you, and you were not to be found. And much as I am grateful for this sweet treat you have prepared for me, I still was sorry to miss your company the entire morning.” He drew me into a kiss that quickly earned my forgiveness.

As we parted, I licked my lips thoughtfully as he watched with narrowed eyes. “Mmmm, those tarts are wonderful! I believe I shall have one also!”

He snickered as he turned back to the table and assured, “Only because it is you am I willing to share!”

I elbowed him. “Only because you fear I will never make more for you if you do not share, are you willing to do so!” He shrugged acknowledgement and bit into another tart with relish.

I was sure we were spoiling our appetite for dinner, but I knew neither of us minded. Before I began this venture, I had left word that Alphros and I would not be at the midday meal so we need not hurry back downstairs. Once the tarts were devoured, we snuggled on the couch, content to hold one another as we looked out at the stormy weather. It occurred to me that if it meant I might remain in his arms, I did not mind at all if the climate continued inhospitable for the duration of my visit. The notion brought a smile to my lips. Every other visit, I would have been disappointed to be so housebound, but now it was utterly inconsequential.

“You need to learn to swim,” Alphros suddenly murmured, almost to himself more than to me.

Startled by his remark, I glanced up at him and asked rather sarcastically, “Right this moment?”

His arms tightened around me and he smiled, but then his expression sobered again. “No, but as soon as warmer weather permits. I know you do not like to swim, especially in the sea, but if you are to live here it is essential. Until now, I always worried when we would go sailing and you did not know how, but I persuaded myself that you were only visiting and it would not matter. But now…I do not want to risk losing you, and knowing how to swim could well prevent that. We live at the water’s edge and it is too dangerous not knowing.”

I burrowed comfortably into his shoulder, too content to argue. “As you wish,” I acquiesced. Likely he was right, anyway. I had always intended to learn, but somehow managed to avoid it. If I was to be a bride of Dol Amroth, certainly it was essential. 

In our time alone together, we kissed and we talked of the future, but we did not particularly consider what we needed to do to officially set ourselves on this course. I should have known we were only fooling ourselves that we had kept our feelings secret from everyone else. 

At supper that night, Imrahil was unusually quiet during the course of the meal, but as we concluded and all prepared to depart, he spoke at last. “Alphros, would you join your father and I in my study, please.” He glanced at me and added, “As this concerns you, Tilleoth, you should probably join us as well.” I was sure Alphros’ mother and sister were sneaking peeks at us, though trying not to be obvious about it.

Alphros and I shot each other concerned looks, but voiced our consent to this request. Rising, we followed Imrahil down the hall. It was clear to me that Alphros was wondering as frantically as I was what this might be about. The thought occurred to me that perhaps it pertained to our new-found affection for one another, but I did not think we had been overtly obvious about that. Surely we had seemed no friendlier toward one another than usual. But, even so, some part of me wondered if they had in fact noticed, and were about to voice some disapproval or objection to the match. After all, Alphros was heir to Dol Amroth’s throne, and I was…just a pretender to the house of Eorl. My spirits fell further the nearer we came to Imrahil’s study.

Once inside, Imrahil gestured for us to be seated on the couch and we sat rigidly side by side, careful to leave a reasonable distance between us. The Prince poured wine for all of us, though I took mine more to have something to occupy my hands.

Taking a seat behind his desk, he sipped thoughtfully at his own wine for several moments, and Elphir also remained silent. I was painfully aware of the tension in Alphros; it radiated off him, though I did not know if his father and grandfather were so conscious of it as I was.

At length, Imrahil set down his wine glass and fixed Alphros with a stern look. “As you well know, there are protocols that must be observed, and that is especially true for the heir to the throne. We do not have the freedom that others might in how we conduct ourselves, and that is even more particularly so when we are dealing with foreign relations. Any feelings you may have for a young lady” – his eyes flicked to me and then back to Alphros – “are fine and personal, but when the young lady is the daughter of Rohan’s king, one must behave circumspectly. I do not doubt that the two of you are behaving in an honorable manner, but despite our connections with Rohan, propriety must be observed!”

My brow knit at these words, and I heard Alphros let out a sigh that almost seemed one of relief. Was Imrahil saying…

“What must I do, Grandfather?” Alphros asked penitently, and I snuck a look at him from the corner of my eye.

“You must formally ask Theodred King for permission to court his daughter, with intent to marry – if that is indeed your intention. I presume this is not some meaningless flirtation without serious motive for either of you!” Imrahil’s mouth twitched with barely concealed humor, though he managed to remain serious. Elphir’s eyes were also alight with humor, and I found myself letting go of my held breath.

“May I send word by messenger, or must I go in person?” Alphros questioned earnestly, surprising me. Then I realized I should not wonder at it – he had grown up knowing his responsibility and duty, and he had never hesitated to act in accordance with that. Even in this, so personal a matter to us, he wished to be circumspect and proper.

Imrahil’s eyes fell on me and he smiled at last. “I believe a letter will suffice. I know Theodred thinks very highly of you. I cannot foresee that he will have any objections to the match. And, for the record, you have my blessing upon you.” Elphir now smiled his concurrence with this and Alphros reached for my hand.

“My apologies for not speaking of our changed situation, or acting of my own accord,” Alphros told them. “It was all so new and unexpected that we forgot ourselves. Of course I will contact Theodred King at once and obtain his permission. Thank you, Grandfather; Father.”

They saluted us with a toast, and wine had never tasted sweeter. Without hesitation, the house of Dol Amroth had accepted me as Alphros’ future bride. Even knowing I would someday stand at his side when he ruled had not given rise to any concerns about my heritage.

Alcathir and Alphrin joined us then and we quietly talked and celebrated our unofficial betrothal. When finally we called it a night, Alphros walked me to my room and kissed me goodnight at the door.

Alone in my room, I leaned against the door, listening to his footsteps growing fainter in the hall. It had been a very long day, and I was weary, but it was a good tiredness, and I was still too excited by all the recent wondrous events to be ready for sleep. Little had I known, on that long ride from the Mark, that I was riding to my future home. I had made that journey numerous times before, giving little thought to it, but now I saw that all those earlier trips had helped lead to this day.

Now as I gaze in my mirror, I realize something else. Like my mother, I will be marrying into a ruling family. She had become a queen; I would be Princess of Dol Amroth one day, when Alphros took his father’s place. And, just like mother, I had never anticipated such a thing. I did not seek to love the heir to such a family, it had simply happened without my notice. Perhaps my paradox was ended. Being the adopted daughter of Rohan’s king may or may not have made me part of the highest noble class, but marrying a future Prince of Dol Amroth certainly did. There was no longer any question as to where I fit in.

I smiled to myself, not even sure now why I had worried so much about it anyway. Life seemed to have a way of working out for the best, no matter what we did to interfere.

THE END

8/23/09 – 9/19/09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> par•a•dox - 3 : one (as a person, situation, or action) having seemingly contradictory qualities or phases
> 
> 3019 - Theodred-41, Retaleoth-31, Eomer-28, Eowyn-24, Lothiriel-20, Tilleoth-5  
> 17 IV - Elfwine-16, Alphros-20, Tilleoth-23, Alphrin-18
> 
> A/N: per Thain's book, The name Alphros appears to contain the word alph meaning "swan" - the symbol of Dol Amroth - and ros meaning "foam." So I have named his sister Alphrin, which would be "swan queen".


End file.
